


Play With Fire

by groffiction



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Biting, Blood and Gore, Bloodlust, Bloodplay, Both Michael and Azriel are switches, Canon type gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Claiming, Dark Elves, Demons, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, Ice Sounding, Light mention of slavery, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Character Death, Oc is a Dragon Elf, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sarcasm, Sounding, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampirism, Very slight mention of non-con touching, some dom/sub elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-01 00:15:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 54,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groffiction/pseuds/groffiction
Summary: In the ruins of an old world fallen and broken under the hands of the son of Satan, a dark rider from another parallel world is tasked to find the Antichrist and either kill him if he is a threat to the realm of the Dark Elves, or strike an alliance if he can be swayed. Either way it goes, Azriel did NOT sign up for this shit, but orders are orders. And with the only alternative has him being barbecued to a crisp with his skeleton used as throne material for his sire - yea, that definitely was not something he wanted to experience.Takes place a week before Michael comes to Outpost 3.





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This is because I have not much of a life, and the fact that the Kylux Fandom threw me into the AHS Fandom because Michael looks so much like a Kylux child. That aside, there is no mention of Kylux in here at all right now, but in the future it might take me down that road. Just as a forewarn. Also, I got very sad when I noticed there is not many Michael/OC fics out there when it comes to having the OC as a male. Nothing wrong with Michael/Fem Ocs, but I figured it would be nice to write something outside of the norm. I hope you like. All art is by me once I end up finishing up more pieces. Once they are finished I will post them in the body of the story. Obviously, I own nothing except the plot, my OC, and anyone you don't recognize, along with the art. Without further ado, here is the first chapter of my story. 
> 
> ***Special thanks to everyone on Discord and Twitter that have been so supportive to me. You all are awesome. Also, the title of this story is from the song "Play With Fire" by The Birthday Massacre, which you can find here: [Play With Fire](https://youtu.be/I8GVzyU6fcY) Also, title pictures come from AHS Season 8, and also from the model Luterone. Out of all the models I have seen, Luterone is the closest looking person to my OC that I can find (outside of my drawings). Check him out! He's a gorgeous model. :)

A cloaked lone figure on a tall black scaled steed picked their way along a deserted road, a day’s journey northwest from what used to be Santa Barbara, California. Ruined burnt out shells of cars and buildings that miraculously were still standing lay on either sides of the road. The rider had been through many ghost towns and cities in the past 48 hours, only guided by directions from the parallel world - his homeland, and his own keen senses. Regardless, it was hard to sense much of anything in the poisoned air and nuclear winter still raging. 

Luckily, his steed was made of sterner material than Earthen horses. Otherwise he might have succumbed to the still prevalent high levels of radiation, and if not that, then the hungry almost rabid leftover human populace would have been able to attack him. As it were, Malfrin still wasn’t in a very good mood. 

Then again, Malfrin hardly ever had a pleasant temperament.

His rider, half masked and fully cloaked, scowled through the thick toxic fog, searching the surrounding area, but making no move to lock eyes with any human that they passed. It was better not to get involved in a hopeless existence of the people in this world. The humans had brought this all on themselves.

But, even Azriel pitied the innocent. Children, animals, it made no difference. Adults he could ignore, even scorn, but youths too young to have any fault besides being born were hard to pass by.

Still, orders were orders. And unless he wanted to spend way more time here than he should and risk his sire’s wrath, he needed to keep moving. 

His objective was clear, as were his orders.

Irritatingly enough, however, his objective was nowhere to be found, and hadn’t been for the past few days. 

As frustrating as this was, Azriel was vigilant and kept looking for any sign that he was getting closer. When darkness fell on the following day, their trek turning east into the wilderness, the lithe warrior’s blue eyes narrowed keenly, night vision taking hold. Ever careful of his surroundings, he kept one black gloved hand on the pommel of his saber, and another holding the handle to a long wound whip. 

Only needing his thighs to guide Malfrin, Azriel briefly felt the moon’s faint rays through the fog before toxic air and thick cloud cover swirled around and above him. For a time, they passed the remaining hints of prior civilization and went deeper into the mangled forest, their road becoming less littered with human and animal corpses.

A few hours later, they came to an overgrown field surrounded by a thick gate of iron with burned and diseased trees nearby. His steed slowed to a stop, absently pawing thick claws into the gravel in agitation, though otherwise Malfrin kept smartly quiet. Azriel stretched out his senses, listening carefully. When nothing stirred besides the wind after long moments, the fey warrior put the rope astride his mount’s pommel and reached up to tap the com link situated behind his left ear. 

“Status,” Came the feminine response in his native tongue, melodious but curt.

“I have reached an iron gated area. Scan three miles in perimeter and give me details of projected path,” Azriel responded monotonously in a whisper, sounding almost deadpan though not intended. “Make it quick, Malfrin is chomping at the bit.”

 _Speak for yourself, Master,_ Malfrin snidely replied in the back of Azriel’s mind, but when he was promptly ignored, he sulked into mental silence.

“Affirmative,” The fey on the other end of the line stated before the line went dead for one painfully long minute.

Azriel usually was a patient person, but he hadn’t been able to feed properly in over three days and he was starting to get a healthy dose of hangry, blood pill rations aside. Plus, his ass was killing him. Being in the saddle for three days straight usually didn’t bother him, but he also usually didn’t have to be super vigilant in a different world from his own. Hell, it was a damned good thing his kin didn’t have to urinate or shit like humans did. Otherwise that would have complicated things. But still, the constant being on edge was tiring.

He just wanted to get this mission done and over so he could go back home and have a nice hot bath with a few hot blood packs to make his hunger go away for a while. Alas, he doubted he would be getting to go home as soon as he’d like. Even if he did find his objective, he seriously didn’t think that the Antichrist would be an easy person to sway for an alliance. And though Azriel killed efficiently whenever he was required, somehow he didn’t think that would be an easy option either if it turned out that the son of Satan wanted a piece of the Dark Elven world.

Then again, if it had been an easy task, his sire would not have sent him on this mission.

Analla on the other end of the line came back with his requested readings, her voice straight and to the point, “An underground bunker is beyond the gate in front of you, but otherwise there is nothing else. From preliminary scans, the bunker is holding about sixteen humans, three of which seem to hold power over magic, though minimal from what we can tell.”

“A fallout shelter. Excellent. The Oracle stated that there would be one in this vicinity, and that my objective will be heading to it in the near future,” Azriel responded with a small hidden smirk of relief, his lower half mask rubbing lightly around his nose and mouth at the act. Good, they were finally getting somewhere. “No other creatures in the vicinity inside or outside the gates?”

“No other creatures. The closest sizeable hunting party - humanoid and non, is about a mile away from you. Your shielding and your mount’s own dark aura is warding off the smaller stragglers closer to you, as intended,” Analla affirmed, making the cloaked fey feel even better, though he did not relax even a smidge. He wasn’t a seasoned warrior for nothing. Once the mission had been completed, and he’d been given release of his duties from his sire, then he could relax and zen. Until then, even if he did manage to find a safe haven to sleep, Azriel would still be on edge.

With a soft, determined wave of his hand, using a small amount of power, the iron gate opened for him, the metal creaking ominously as he was granted admittance to the property. He didn’t have to nudge Malfrin with his knees to get the scaled Crovid to move forward. Malfrin headed dutifully ahead, not startling much when the gate closed behind them with a clang. That gate almost sounded like Azriel’s tired muscles felt. He probably would have some clicks and cracks from his joints once he dismounted. 

His hand coming back down to capture up his whip, Azriel’s fey ears twitched under his hood as a faint alarm sounded beneath his mount’s claws. Malfrin rumbled out a slow growl but after gentle prodding from his master, he continued. Azriel’s mouth grew into a thin line as he saw a large black maze like spiral structure come into view. With determination, the rider maneuvered around the great structure, keeping a good distance in between it and his mount. Coming back to the front, he stilled Malfrin and looked sharply at the entrance to the spiral. 

Three humans wearing the weirdest black monster looking radiation suits came out into the open space, weapons drawn. 

“Who goes there?! Speak quickly, lest we kill you and… whatever it is you are riding,” One short female stated sharply.

Thank the stars for micro ear universal translators. The humans in his world had many different tongues, and this one he did not recognize. He would have to learn quickly how to speak their language if he wanted to avoid killing the people in front of him - no doubt they probably didn’t have the luxury of micro translators. With a soft sigh, figuring he so did _NOT_ sign up for this shit, Azriel carefully put his whip down on the pommel of his horse, and withdrew his hand from his saber, opting to put his hands up in peace.

Hopefully they would understand that, at least.

One of the humans - a tall female came closer to him, but stopped just far enough away from Malfrin’s biting range. No doubt Malfrin’s fangs looked daunting to the human. At least this one was close enough for him to attempt telepathy. As soon as the link was established, he was able to quickly scan enough information of their language and history to formulate a few sentences. The tall lady seemed to not feel his invasion, and therefore Azriel only took what was needed, and nothing more.

If she would have felt it, he would have had to kill her, lest she cry out and alarm the others. “My name is Azriel Davari of the Cooperative Alliance to the parallel Dark Elven realm Nirsa. I must speak with your person in charge.”

“Can I see some identification?” The short human female, to her credit, didn’t seemed alarmed at the fact that there was a parallel world. Perhaps she knew of his realm. It was normally highly classified information for Earthen humans to have. 

Then again, she could be trying to trick him. He kept the link with the tall woman until he finished gleaning information, and withdrew from her mind carefully. “Of course,” Azriel murmured, ever one to be polite, even under tense circumstances. The fey warrior got off of his mount with ease, despite his legs aching and protesting. He was mildly surprised that his joints didn’t creak as much as he’d figured they would.

Patting Malfrin fondly on his black scaled neck, the fey slowly reached his left hand out and summoned a scroll with his credentials. The tall woman advanced, still wary of his steed, and reached out to take the scroll from him. Noting that weapons were still trained on his person, no matter how effective they may be against him, Azriel calmly waited while the tall woman took his credentials to the shorter woman. The only male in the trio kept his eye trained on Malfrin rather than the fey, but Azriel was no fool.

It was against his interest in making enemies with these people or killing them. His eyes narrowed keenly as the shorter woman scanned down his scroll with interest. Finally, she let out a huff in grudging understanding, even though Azriel had no doubt that the scroll was not legible to her eyes. 

She rolled back up the scroll and this time walked up to him and once at a respectful if close distance, she handed it back to Azriel, nodding her head. “Welcome to Outpost 3, Sir Davari.”

“Just Mr. Davari or Azriel will do, if you please,” The fey responded with a smirk though she would not be able to see it due to his half mask. “Certain titles are worthless in your world right now, don’t you agree?”

“Perhaps. I am Ms. Miriam Mead,” The woman said, looking over at his mount with interest.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Mead. Malfrin, my steed will come with me,” Azriel commented, and when the woman made to protest, he rolled up the sleeve to his right arm, baring his pale skin to the elements unflinchingly. Malfrin turned into a puff of smoke, along with his tack and gear, moving to settle in a black swirled tattoo marking on Azriel’s bare skin. “He will not be an issue if you are worried about food or water shortages. Crovids can go weeks without food and water and still survive. If he needs to be fed at a later date, I will let him feast outside the gate.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Davari,” Ms. Mead said with an aloof sarcasm that someone as jaded as Azriel could definitely appreciate. He liked this woman already. “If you’ll come this way. I don’t know much of your kind, but it would greatly make us feel a bit better if you go through a round of radiation decontamination before you step foot inside the living space.”

“I do not mind obliging,” Azriel stated, breathing a small sigh of relief when the male human finally lowered his weapon. He knew for a fact that all three humans were hyper vigilant and wouldn’t hesitate to turn on him in a second’s flat, so he was careful not to press his luck. He would go through this decontamination, if only for them to view him as a non threat health wise. 

It perhaps would be best not to say anything about the fact that he was something darker than an ordinary Dark Elf and that he survived off of the blood of any creature, living, or undead. As long as the blood was hot, he didn’t really have a preference. But, he figured he wouldn’t mention that little tidbit unless he had to. His blood supplement rations would last him more than a month, even if he preferred and craved the real thing, fresh from the source. 

He wouldn’t be a threat to the humans inside the bunker unless they brought it on themselves to attack him or get in the way of his mission. 

Following the short woman into the labyrinth structure, and in turn having the other two humans behind him, Azriel kept his senses open to everything, even as he drew his sleeve down to cover Malfrin’s scaled tattoo on his pale, cold skin. 

After being thoroughly sprayed clean of radiation, and almost feeling like he needed a shower even more now, Azriel followed Ms. Mead and the others into the main fallout shelter. It was subterranean and was two levels that he could tell. Though used to living in underground cities most of his youth, Azriel instantly missed the open air, even if it was poisoned and smelled horrid. The huge wall of scents coming from the various human inhabitants in the bunker nearly made him both gag and drool. Whoever was using enough perfume to fill a fucking lake needed to tone it down. The smell of blood was thick and he had to steel himself from breathing it in too much.

How in the hell was he going to be able to remove his half mask with all that miasma of gag-me and deliciousness? He supposed there were worse things to smell, and it wasn’t like he would bother too much with the other humans besides the leadership members. Case in point, he was shown to an office room with large sliding black doors. He had at least tugged off his hood and undid a few buttons from his jacket, enjoying the warmth even though the coldness of the outdoors had never bothered him. Azriel was in the process of tugging off his gloves when the doors closed behind him and left him alone with a stern looking human woman, her weight supported a bit by a cane in her right hand. Her clothes were fashionable but also practical, the style odd to him but strangely pleasing.

 _Victorian…._ He thought, pulling the name out of info dump he had received from the tall female guard. Finally figuring that the perfume wasn’t coming from the office, Azriel reached up and tugged down his half mask to take in a deep slow breath of non toxic air for the first time in over three days. 

“I am Ms. Wilhemina Venable and I am in charge here,” The stern woman stated, her voice soft but direct. “In the risk of sounding too unwelcoming, I must ask you to get to the point as to why you are here. We have limited resources and did not expect any from the parallel realm to come knocking at our door.”

Cold, calculating.

He could respect that.

Still, just how much did she know about his kin? He refrained from scanning her thoughts to find out the answer for the moment, not wanting to push his luck just yet just in case she was one of the magic bearers of this place. Opting to smile slightly, tilting the corners of his lips up just a bit, Azriel courteously bowed and as he straightened, explained albeit a bit haltingly, still not used to the feel of English human words on his tongue, “Indeed, I also was not aware of an expedition taking place on your doorsteps, Ms. Venable, until three days ago an hour before I set out. I am here merely as a temporary guest and nothing more. My business lies with someone higher up in the Cooperative that will be visiting soon.”

“Someone higher up. Who? And why?” Ms. Venable asked, moving to stand a bit closer to him, even as he went towards the lit fireplace. Warming his hands, enjoying the feel of it on his fingers, for a long moment Azriel said nothing, trying to decide what words to say.

Human languages in this world might not be as complex as in his own world, but he still didn’t want to come across as too rude. That would be counterproductive in his mission. Finally deciding to try and glean information from his host as covertly as possible, he reached out with his senses, mentally rubbing slightly up against Ms. Venable’s mind and noted she was not one with magic. Catching her puzzlement, and limited information about his world made him feel a bit better. She knew almost nothing of his world except for the fact that the Cooperative held an alliance with his people, and descriptions of what they supposedly looked like. 

His kin never had consented to allowing their likeness taken in pictures, so the Cooperative had been gracious enough in the past to have no cameras present in their meetings. It stood to reason that she only knew descriptions, but no visuals. 

Since she was not a magic bearer, he opted for a half truth when he finally responded to her, “The Oracle did not tell us much about this human, only that he would be an important person to meet. He deals with all negotiations with our realm now that our former ally perished not long ago.”

“Pray excuse me for sounding a bit harsh, but are you sure you do not know more about this person? It sounds like you don’t know very much and yet have come all this way,” Ms. Venable said, a small disappointed crease bowing her lips. 

“In truth, I have no clue _why_ he is coming here, as I am no clairvoyant. What I do know, is that once he gets here, I need to speak with him directly,” Azriel stated silkily, his tone staying respectful, but taking on a sharper edge, not liking Ms. Venable’s insinuation, even if it was totally understandable given the fact that she must have been aching for word of the outside, or at least from other shelters. He added with a softer tone, “I merely am following orders from my sire. One does not disobey a direct order from the King of all Dark Elves. And as for resources, you will not have to worry about that. All I will require is some water to bathe in, and a place to rest, nothing more. I came with my own rations to keep me alive for the time being.”

“Very well then. Water and lodgings we can provide you with. All water is precious, no doubt, however this place has a very state of the art recycling and purifying system that taps into a deep underground lake that thankfully was not harmed when the bombs fell. You may use as much or as little as you like. As for a place to rest, Ms. Mead will show you to a vacant set of rooms. Though I understand the importance of your mission, I would suggest that if you do decide to visit with the other humans, that you abide by our rules here,” Ms. Venable stated with a small smile, her prior mood stifled under a calm and thick facade. 

Azriel had to hand it to her, she definitely liked to play School teacher. Or perhaps Jail Commissioner? He supposed this place could eventually begin to feel like a prison if one lived there long enough. Licking his lips and opting to smirk in wry humor, Azriel asked in a slow purr, irritableness pushed into the back of his thoughts, “And what rules may those be? Rest assured I will not trespass on their company much, but if I do encounter a few, I want to be sure I am following your _every_ command.” He laid the condescending tone and deadpan in a thick layer, perhaps too much so, but he couldn’t help himself. 

If Ms. Venable was affected by his snide playfulness, she made no reaction to show that she was. Instead, her smile turned slowly into a more sinister smirk and proceeded to tell him their so called rules.

### 

After nearly busting a gut out loud right in Ms. Venable’s face about the rules, which were completely ridiculous when it came to “no unauthorized copulation of any kind”, Ms. Mead showed Azriel to his temporary rooms. The rooms were more spacious than he would guess, and he was pleased with the fact that though there were no bathtubs in his bathroom, there was a nice sized shower. 

Hanging up his outer cloak and coat in the clothes armoire near the door, Azriel also took off his travel boots and put them away. The smooth stone floor felt good under his black socked feet. Tugging off one scale from Malfrin’s tattoo on his arm, the fey resized it and turned it into his travel luggage, of which he placed neatly on top of the bed. Though it would not be practical to carry his sword and whip at full size inside the bunker, he was going to feel all sorts of naked without them being close at hand. Therefore he took up a few small fully sized daggers into the bathroom with him, along with a change of Dark Elven casual clothing, and toiletries. Though the rule for dinner and having cocktails in the lounge or library did not apply to him, Azriel was still quick in his bathing and self grooming. 

It still felt marvelous being able to wash travel sweat and grime from his sensitive skin, and he nearly moaned in euphoria when he washed his long white hair. Scrubbing the rest of his body carefully, hitching a breath when he accidentally caught his bath sponge on one of his nipple rings, Azriel finished bathing with efficiency. Scowling a bit at his reflection in the bathroom mirror once towel drying himself off, Azriel figured he looked tired, but otherwise normal.

Fey ears, long still a bit damp white hair, pale features, tired black slitted blue eyes rimmed with tattooed black lining, tall and lean frame, the faint shimmer of black scales going from behind the ears down the stripe of his spine, bisecting two tattooed folded dragon wings, he looked like he was supposed to. Hairless, sensitive skin covering every expanse of his body except his fey eyebrows and hair on top of his head, Azriel couldn’t find any new bruises or cuts on his body from his travels.

Perhaps he was a bit more ashen in complexion due to being on rations, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that for now. Speaking of rations, Azriel grunted softly as he popped two blood tablets in his mouth, figuring he could splurge that night with all the ripe smelling humans running around in the near vicinity. Being hangry wasn’t going to benefit anyone, especially if he did, in fact, have to deal with some of the humans in the near future. His rooms were blessedly empty of that nasty smelling perfume, so that was a definite plus. 

After dressing in the black set of Elven clothes, complete with the few daggers strapped to hidden areas on his person, brushing his hair, and returning the rest of his personal items and weaponry to his pack to downsize and reattach as part of Malfrin’s scale tattoo, Azriel sat down lotus style on the bed. He tapped on his ear piece and gave his report so far. No new instructions were delivered in response, not that he expected any. With a small huff, the fey opted to blow out the candles with a cold snap of power, and flopped onto his back to rest. 

Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before the Antichrist showed up.

### 

That night he dreamed for the first time in several months. 

Pale, golden skin sliding sinuously along his; lean, but strong arms holding him in a fierce and possessive embrace. Blue eyes filled with heat and desire locking with his own, and full, lush lips caressing his own. Dark ginger hair, not quite strawberry blonde and not quite full ginger was smooth as silk as it draped over his sensitive skin. Erotic pleasure that blew him away and left him aching for more lit sparks of fire all over his skin and the blood…. The blood on his tongue tasted like the deepest, seductive sin. He felt heat everywhere he was touched, electrifying the ever present coldness in his veins. 

_Let me in, Azzy, and I’ll give you everything. Everything I have will be yours._

The velvety seductive voice is what shook Azriel awake, his blue eyes snapping open, a gasp being ripped from his lips. 

“Fucking hell,” Azriel cursed softly, mildly annoyed with himself that he’d almost had a very intense wet dream for the first time in ages and had still managed to make a mess of himself regardless. Copious amounts of precome was all over his groin, his casual Elven slacks damp and stretched over his aching erection.

With a scowl, Azriel got up from his bed, heading to the bathroom to clean up, despite wanting nothing more than to give in to his carnal urges. Though healthy and harmless as a good wank was for a fey, Azriel wasn’t in the mood to give into release. He was in a foreign world right smack dab in the middle of Hell’s outhouse, and he was not going to debase himself just because his dream got his body inspired. Plus, he doubted anyone in the bunker would appreciate him shouting at the top of his lungs as he gave into pleasure. 

He figured that the walls were not really that thick when it came to this place. The only walls thick were the ones surrounding and fortifying the place for protection. His voice would be damning, that is definitely certain. As he cleaned himself up, he mildly wondered where in the hell that dream of his had come from. Wild and fully active imagination aside, Azriel could have sworn that he had never seen an individual like the one in his dream before, nor had he ever felt that sort of intense pleasure before. Azriel was no virgin, but none of his intimate encounters had even lit a candle to this random gorgeous person simply touching and kissing him in his dream. 

“Shit,” Azriel rumbled softly, hoping this was not an omen.

Dreams this intense often meant something, and though he had spoken the truth when telling Ms. Venable that he was no clairvoyant, at times he did have messages in his dreams. Rarely, but they did happen. The last one he’d had was over a century ago, when he had dreamed of a prominent figure in the Dark Elven court playing darts, and eventually throwing a dart into the middle of a map. The following week that person had invaded the particular place on the map with a troop of renegades, massacring everyone in his path. 

After that, he had been tested by his sire and by the Oracle to see into his clairvoyant capabilities. Sadly, there was little to no power, just random messages. When no other message filled dream surfaced after some time, Azriel had forgotten about it. And now, he just had another, but this time it affected himself. And it was erotic.

Most of his wet dreams, when he did have them, were foggy at best and mostly centered around the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in several months or years. He supposed this could have happened due to the fact that indeed, he hadn’t been intimate with anyone, not even his own hand for over ten years. To a fey, ten years wasn’t that long, but it WAS a long time in between sexual romantic liaisons. Dark Elves by nature were highly sexual creatures, and going as much as a month without some form of erotic stimulation was considered unhealthy. And the darker genetic offshoot of Dark Elves that he was a part of - Dragon Elves, even CRAVED the sensuous arts so much that they could find ecstasy in just about anything.

It wasn’t that Azriel was unhealthy, he just wasn’t as interested in that sort of thing than most of his kin. He was loyal to his sire, and threw his mind and body into his missions, not thinking about his own needs. If anything, he was more stimulated by bloodlust and completion of his missions than actual physical means. 

Maybe his body was just trying to tell him he needed to get laid.

Something about that voice though…. It was as if he’d known that voice, dark and sensuous. Or at least it seemed to know _him_. When Azriel really thought about it, he almost felt like that voice had pierced his soul. And he hadn’t felt his soul that connected to him ever since his sire turned him eons ago. It was a strange feeling.

Looking down at his still thick erection, Azriel sighed and opted to ignore it for the time being. Finishing his morning habitual, Azriel came out of the bathroom still puzzled over his dream, but determined to put it into the back of his mind for later study. Quickly dressing into a different pair of casual Elven slacks, he figured the shirt he slept in was still ok to wear for now. 

Opening the door to his room, the fey breathed in shallowly and let out a soft exhale when the perfume wasn’t as noxious out here as it had been the night before. Reaching out with his senses, he noted that everyone was still slumbering except for Ms. Venable and a few of the grey garbed humans hustling in the kitchen downstairs. Nodding slowly, he made his way carefully down the stairs to enter the library, wrinkling his nose at the stale smell of human contact, wax candles with their wicks burning, and mineral water of a sort. Not wanting to stay down here long, lest he come in contact with one of the humans, he perused the books on the shelves quickly but carefully. 

The books smelled a bit odd, made from a mix of wood or parchment, but they were more pleasantly scented than anything else in the room. He could detect a bit of old spilled blood in the area too, as well as the slight ozone of dark magic. Finally picking up a book that seemed to call to him, he left the room and headed up the stairs to his room silently, noting that the other humans were starting to wake up and face the day. If you could call it a day. By the time he got back to his room, it had already been seen to by the greys. Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, he noted that his soiled travel things had been taken to be cleansed, there were fresh towels in the bathroom, fresh candles had been lit, and his bed had been made.

Idly sitting down on a stiff backed chair near a small desk next to the bed, the flames of the various candles in his room created a soft glow. Though he didn’t need light to see, the light didn’t bother him. Putting the book on the desk, he settled in for a read, pulling the written language needed from the back of his mind that he had gleaned the day before. There was not much else to do until the Antichrist showed up.

### 

After the sixth day, Azriel was beginning to lose patience. 

Every day and evening had been like the last, complete with his intense and erotic dreams, and he had read virtually every book he could get his hands on in the library, except for a few that were in an unknown language that the tall guard did not understand. Those books he finally took up, just to look at the lettering to amuse himself for a time while the others were asleep.

But even that grew boring after a painfully short amount of time. On the fifth day he had his first encounter with a human other than Ms. Venable and her cohorts. This woman was garbed in a Victorian purple dress, and her blonde hair was wound up in a ridiculous fashion, though he had to hand it to her stylist that it suited her pale complection. Unfortunately for him, this human was also the one who bathed in perfume.

She had caught him as he was leaving the library, another book in one hand. To her credit she didn’t cause a fuss about a stranger being there, or the fact that this stranger looked like someone out of their fairy tales, but she did give him a long couple of blatantly intrigued looks that he wasn’t comfortable with. “Ooo, you must be the visitor Ms. Venable has been so secretive about! I am Coco St Pierre Vanderbilt, and who might you be? And oh my God, can I ask what product you use on your hair? It’s gorgeous!”

This woman had definitely been shallow, but she still intrigued him mildly considering she had magic within her. It was wrapped up so tightly within her that he doubted she even knew she had it, but it was still fascinating. Regardless, he felt nauseated due to her perfume, whatever it was that she was wearing. It didn’t compliment her natural scent or blood either, and it instantly gave him a headache. How he had been so distracted not knowing she was in the vicinity boggled his mind. 

Opting to breathe shallowly, he answered stiffly, trying his best to stay courteous, “I am Azriel Davari, miss, and I only use an herbal mixture on my hair, nothing more.”

“Well it’s definitely beautiful. I can’t even tell that you managed to bleach it so white - how did you manage to get it done? And those ears and your style, wow, it almost looks like you’ve walked out of one of those cosplay shows!” Coco stated with a simpering smile that added to the uneasiness in Azriel’s senses. 

“I assure you, everything is authentic. My hair is also indeed white. Pray excuse me, miss, ” Azriel stated politely and had vacated the area, making sure to move quicker than she could follow, despite her obvious dismay.

He had stayed put in his room for a whole evening and night after that. Now that it was the sixth day, Azriel had thought about staying again in his room, but the lure of the library provided too much temptation for him to resist. Yes, he had read everything he could, and had gained much more knowledge of the Earthen realm - even if a lot of the books on the shelves were fiction and not actual truth, but he was bored.

Plain and simply _bored_.

He was extra vigilant in avoiding the other inhabitants of the shelter, but then one of the young grey dressed humans fell and hurt her leg on the stairs. Biting his lower lip, he was about to ignore her struggle when he noted no one else was around and it looked like she was in a lot of pain. With a soft sigh, Azriel headed down the stairs to assist, his feet quiet on the steps. The girl looked up and spotted him, her brown eyes going wide as she took his frame in. Azriel whispered softly, “Easy, young one, I can assist if you wish?”

She swallowed and tried to get away almost like a mouse, and ended up bashing her head against the stairwell, knocking herself out cold. Azriel raised his brows comically and huffed out a soft snicker. That was definitely counterproductive, but oh well. Then again, it saved him from answering all sorts of questions should the human become like the curious one he had met the day before. He knelt down next to the fallen girl and looked her over, noting that she was pretty for a human, platonically speaking.

Reaching down to check her pulse and mentally scan her injuries, he figured she would be alright after some rest. Her ankle had been twisted and her head bruised but not concussed so that was a blessing. Gently lifting her slight weight into his arms, he let out a slow hiss, sensing the magic deeply buried in her mind. He would have to be careful with this one, if he encountered her again in the future. After a few delicate sniffs, he found where her room was, a smaller one than his, with less amenities, but still serviceable. Moving swiftly and quietly, he avoided more contact with other humans as he carried the girl to her room. Azriel wasn’t sure how much longer his luck in avoiding them would hold out, but he wasn’t going to dwell on it.

Laying her on her bed, he ran his hand on the back of her head and cooled the swelling down to her bruise. He did the same with her ankle, not being able to do much more healing without herbs. And since this wasn’t a big injury, only giving her mild discomfort, he decided to keep his pack of herbs where it was locked away in Malfrin’s tattoo. He did, however go into the bathroom and grab some toilet paper to wrap her ankle with. 

After removing her shoe and binding the ankle carefully, he looked at his handiwork. Though he was no healer, he was a warrior, and Elven warriors all had crash courses in field medicine before they headed out to fight. And though Dark Elves healed much quicker than their fairer kin cousins, they did have various other creatures that served them or served with them. He had treated many a human in his past. This girl’s ankle looked bandaged up pretty well. 

Figuring the least he could do is go tell Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead about this young lady’s whereabouts so she didn’t get in trouble, Azriel stood and left her room on silent feet.

### 

Later, after speaking with both Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead - of which now he could smell that she was not human at all, but some sort of mechanical droid, Azriel was thoroughly irritated. He wasn’t necessarily irritated with Ms. Mead as she was just following orders, but Ms. Venable had actually decided that because he helped a poor girl from getting punished for falling down the stairs, that he needed to socialize with the other humans as a reward.

Therefore, he was stuck having to meet with the rest of the humans during cocktails after their dinner that night. It was annoying. Perhaps he was feeling a bit antisocial, but that was his nature. He didn’t like large crowds, and he was a very private person. Azriel had very few friends and even less when it came to social companions. He was happy most days being alone or with animals. Being in a war battalion was about as far as it went in being willingly in close quarters with other people, Dark Elf or no. But, he had agreed to Ms. Venable’s offer, knowing that if he declined it might be viewed as a slight.

These people had allowed him to stay and rest in their bunker, so it was the least he could do to repay some of their hospitality with being a bit sociable. One or two hours of undesirable company was a small price to pay.

Deciding that what he was wearing right now was fine for being social, Azriel stayed in his room until it was time for him to join the others. And if he spent those few hours sulking up a storm, that was no one’s business but his own.

### 

“May I present our visitor from an Alliance of the Cooperative, Mr. Azriel Davari. He will be staying with us for a time, and I suggest everyone treat him with respect as a guest,” Ms. Venable stated in a tone so bored, that Azriel was impressed.

As he walked in, hands clasped in front of him, he breathed in shallowly and was thankful that he had taken an extra ration of blood supplements before coming to join them. Ms. Coco had thankfully not doused herself in extra perfume tonight, so his sinuses weren’t too overrun by unwanted scents. He could of course, smell the humans' blood pumping through their veins, along with the burning wax candles and various other scents, but at least the perfume was minimal. Licking his fangs with his mouth staying closed, Azriel came to stand at the left bookcase, saying a soft hello to everyone seated or standing in the area.

Though there were various questions popping out of everyone’s mouths, he held up a hand to still their flapping jaws. “I am here on business, nothing more. As soon as my business is complete, I will be leaving you all to your… surviving.” 

“Is it still horrid out there?” Piped up a young blonde headed male that was attractive, though a bit too frivolous for his tastes. 

“Unfortunately, yes.” Azriel watched earnest faces fall into mixtures of disappointment and despair, but what could he offer them that would be less daunting? He was the last person to come to for optimism, and yet he felt obligated to say something uplifting. Anything. The stink of fear, sadness, anger, and pain was so thick it was making his stomach clench. And this coming from someone who absolutely had the biggest chip on his shoulder when it came to sentiment, meant it was _BAD_. 

Finally he settled for a soft question. If he could distract their minds to something else, perhaps that would be the best choice of action. “May I ask your names at least so that I can address you all properly for the time I am here?”

As all the purple wearing people went down the list, Azriel noted that obviously the people in that color were elite and the people wearing grey were servants. Apparently the line of status was big here, even if titles were not. He caught many a curious eye raking over his person, but he had expected that. Strangely enough, his ears were not called into question, nor his eyes until Coco once again gushed over his hair. And that wouldn’t have been too embarrassing except for the fact that she got her stylist in on it, Gallant coming over to fawn over it.

He did get a few unsavory looks from other people, especially Andre and his mother. Azriel wasn’t sure why, but when he reached out with his senses he detected that Dinah Stevens had dark magic tapped inside her. She hadn’t used it in a while, but he could tell that she could sense things. Perhaps she sensed he was not from their world. He would have to be careful around her for now. Her son did not have magic, but was wary of him regardless. Maybe he had a latent aura sensing ability. Either way it went, Azriel kept his distance from them. 

The young couple, Emily and Tim were adorable in a nauseating way that most young lovers were, and he regarded them with passing interest. And then there was an older matriarch named Evie Gallant, that had wit and a callousness that he could understand. Her grandson was the hairdresser. As for the grey wearing humans, they were named Tilde, Mark, Sherry, and Mallory. Mallory had been the young girl he had helped.

She regarded him a few times carefully, and had even come over to him to tell him a soft thanks before heading over to serve Coco. Apparently she had remembered seeing him before her blackout, either that or someone had told her that he had been the one to help her out. She seemed to be a shy, little thing, but had spirit that was almost blinding in her aura. It was too bright for him at times.

The guards that he had been in contact with also introduced themselves as Max and Mary - or who was fondly labeled as “the Fist”. Several times Coco tried to monopolize his time, and for whatever reason seemed to really try to talk his ear off. When everyone except Gallant had left to retire to their rooms for the evening, Azriel had reached the limit of his patience. And if he heard one more complaint from Coco or one more lunch story from Evie, the fey feared he would resort to violence.

In all of his prior missions, Azriel had had to deal with annoying factors, but this was a bit much. He caught Ms. Mead’s almost sympathetic smirk as she regarded him being hassled by Gallant and the look he must have given her was one of a plea for help for she came by to dismiss Gallant out of the library lounge. 

“Thank you. I was beginning to feel like I’d never get a moment’s peace,” Azriel said softly once he was alone with the shorter, stockier robotic female. He wasn’t sure if she knew she was a robot, so he was careful not to comment on anything that might confuse her. 

She seemed to be acting like a normal human, so he treated her as such.

“I do apologize for the fuss, I am not one for their mindless chatter either. But, they were picked by the Cooperative, and I can’t very well eliminate them all without complications,” Ms. Mead stated dryly, causing him to chuckle darkly.

“Why not? I am sure with a few people on your side, you could end them all in a heartbeat with minimal resistance,” Azriel carefully, but playfully stated. “I am sure you are smart enough to come up with a plan. Or if not you, then certainly Ms. Venable. She seems ruthless and tactical enough to pull something off.”

“Though that thought does have merit, I’ll unfortunately have to deal with their unsufferableness until I am otherwise told. I am simply a soldier following orders. Much like yourself,” Ms. Mead said with a small smile. “I cannot speak for Ms. Venable, of course.”

“Indeed. And you are quite right about just following orders. A kindred spirit to another, perhaps?” Azriel murmured, reaching up to finger one of the bookshelves before he leaned up against it, taking some weight off of one ankle in the process. He crossed his arms around his middle, regarding his companion with softer eyes. This woman reminded him of his sire’s first wife, who had been very kind to him before she was killed in battle.

Tough as nails, but soft when it came to someone confused and new to their world. 

“Maybe.” For a while nothing was said and then finally Ms. Venable asked, “When do you think the person you are waiting for might show up? I’m not fishing for details, I am just satisfying my own curiosity.”

 _I am sure you are_ , Azriel thought with amusement but then he shrugged in response. “I honestly do not know, only that it will be soon. The Oracle was specific down to the month, but not down to the exact day. It also depends on unforeseen variables. I just need to be patient and continue to wait.”

“Yea, well unfortunately you might have to speed up your waiting. Our rations are going to be going down to one meal tomorrow so just to forewarn you that everyone here might get a bit more crazy than they already are,” Ms. Mead said idly, looking around the deserted dimly lit room with a somber expression.

“Thank you for the warning,” Azriel said, before he curiously asked, “Though I am not sure why you wanted to tell me that? I admit, I am thankful for the information, but I am sure it’s a bit sensitive. It feels strange to have a stranger put their trust in me.”

“Oh I definitely don’t trust you, I am not that stupid.” Ms. Mead smirked, causing Azriel to snicker in understanding. She then admitted, “You just remind me of someone I used to know. Perhaps I am letting sentimentality get in the way of my better judgement.”

Feeling a rare grin split over his lips, Azriel purred softly, “I wasn’t saying that you are stupid. Far from it. Maybe you _are_ lapsing in your judgement and giving in to sentiment. But know this that out of everyone I have met so far in this ruined world, you by far are the most enjoyable to be around.”

The bark of laughter coming out of Ms. Mead’s mouth was infectious and he found himself laughing with her. Ms. Mead sobered a bit, still smiling as she stated with a tinge of humor, “Flattery, Mr. Davari, won’t get you anywhere with me. But I appreciate the effort.”

“Thank you,” Azriel replied. “Regardless of how little faith you have in my words, I will say that I will not betray your confidence in this. The others will have plenty of time to worry about their grim situation tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Mead stated.

It wasn’t long after that Azriel excused himself from her company, another unreadable book in hand, absently reaching out to touch Ms. Mead’s thoughts as he left. Her droid brainwaves were more computer based and it was hard to break through, but once he was able to, he discovered a well of information. Again, only taking what he needed, the fey left her mind with a pleased sigh. Now, at least, he knew Latin.

The book in his hands just so happened to be written in that language.

Feeling way better than he had the whole day, Azriel went up the stairs to his rooms, a smile still on his face.

### 

The Antichrist arrived the next morning during the time the humans were having their last breakfast. 

Azriel was in the process of coming down to return the fascinating Latin book he had read, one of magic spells and enchantments, when the alarms went off. He had heard humans shouting in the dining area and was wanting to return his book as soon as possible to avoid their irate company, guessing that they had been told about the dwindling ration situation. The alarms were obnoxiously loud to his poor ears, and he hissed in annoyance. Clapping his hands over his ears, he headed further downstairs, figuring whatever was going on the leaders of this place would handle it. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom stairs that he sensed him. 

It was as if a huge tempest of dark energy and magic swirled over the surface above the bunker, permeating so much he could taste it in the back of his throat. Pushing down sudden lust for the seduction of the darkness pulling at his own inner magic, Azriel forced himself to return his book. Slapping his hands over his ears again and heading back up the stairs, he breathed a sigh of relief when the alarms suddenly fell silent. His ears still pounding, Azriel was distracted and wasn’t watching where he was going.

It made sense then that he would run into someone quite literally.

And that someone being the person in his dreams, only clothed this time. Long dark ginger hair, soft pale skin but darker than the fey’s, a tint of red eye makeup near either sides of the bridge of his nose, full lips, and the most intoxicating smell he had ever scented in his life hit Azriel like a wall. Vivid, piercing blue eyes captured his own as he looked up from their collision. His hands rested on the human’s shoulders, and searing hot body heat filtered through fingers where the man was gripping his hips. 

Snatching his hands back, as if burned, Azriel made the mistake of hissing out in his own language, “ _YOU!_ ” Fangs showing a bit, the fey tried to calm down, to breathe thinly, anything to keep from losing his mind. 

But then the man slowly smirked and murmured softly in fluid Dark Elven, “ _Me_.”

The man from his dreams was the Antichrist.

Azriel was so _fucked_.


	2. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up at Outpost 3. :)

“There is no need to apologize or feel embarrassed, Mr. Davari,” Michael Langdon murmured silkily in Dark Elven, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully at the fey in front of him. “It was a simple collision, nothing more.”

They were currently in Ms. Venable’s office, thankfully alone now that Mr. Langdon had spoken with her and had promptly excused her from the room so that they might discuss things in private. Ms. Venable was not happy about leaving the office to Michael’s care, but Azriel figured that the Antichrist couldn’t care less what she thought at this point. 

Azriel was currently standing further away from Michael, still having difficulty not giving in to the tempting darkness surrounding the Antichrist. When taking this mission, he had known it would be a test of wills and more. It would be difficult, and he knew that in order to destroy the whole Earthen world with the flick of his wrist, Michael must be a person of great and powerful magic.

But, this was insane.

It was as if Michael was born from the dark magic. His power was seductive and evil in a way that made Azriel instantly want to bow to it’s malevolence. But to do so would mean most certain death. If not by this man, then his sire. Betrayal was not in his blood, nor was it an option, so Azriel kept himself at a safer, more practical distance, of which seemed to amuse the Antichrist to no end.

Michael looked over the young, but seasoned warrior, noting that for some reason he couldn’t read him at all. He could sense emotions wafting from the other male every once in a while, but as for actual thoughts, they were hidden behind a thick mental shield. Of course, he could penetrate it if he wished, but for some reason, he didn’t want to panic the already startled Dark Elf further. Besides, that would be counterproductive to his plans.

So, he waited quietly, allowing the Elf to gather his bearings. As he warmed his hands by the fire, not really needing to due to his overwarm body heat, Michael took a long moment to survey his companion, delicately breathing in the Elf’s scent. It was pleasant, and a bit like peppermint. He’d always been a fan of snow and ice, and though he’d grown up in a place where it didn’t snow much at all, when he looked at this Elf, everything about him spoke of frost and winter.

From his white hair, to his pale complexion and blue eyes, and dark Elven attire, he looked the epitome of long cold nights and winter wonderlands. 

Michael found it refreshing.

And addicting.

Azriel licked his lips and nodded, finally finding his mental footing as he breathed in shallowly. The other male’s intoxicating scent was still overpowering, but as long as he refrained from getting closer to the Antichrist, he could work around his attraction. Azriel murmured softly, his voice a bit unsteady, but better than he’d feared it would be, “Thank you, Mr. Langdon.”

Michael smirked, catching that slight quiver in the Elf’s voice, but to his credit, the white haired fey had recovered quite well. He was impressed. Usually people didn’t know how to take his presence when they knew he was the Antichrist, especially after the Armageddon. Even at the Sanctuary, where the closest people to him were very loyal subjects, none of them were at ease when he was nearby. Not that he could blame them.

He’d always excelled in making people feel uncomfortable around him unless he was putting on a show. Michael could always make them feel at home around him if he chose to, but more often than not, he didn’t trust anyone enough to feel that safe to do so. The only person who was still ‘alive’ that he trusted wholeheartedly was Ms. Mead, and she was still under a memory block.

Bringing his thoughts out of the past and into the present, Michael opted to try to at least make the Elf comfortable in speaking with him. It would do him no favors unnerving his potential powerful ally too much. Advancing a bit closer, he took in the stiffening of the Elf’s shoulders and his shallow breathing growing more hitched. He could practically sense a spike of arousal wafting from the fey, along with heightened panic.

Interesting. So the fey found him attractive, or perhaps there was something within Azriel that was drawn to him. He’d never met a Dark Elf before, and only knew limited information though at least he knew their language. What was it about himself that was affecting the fey so much?

Filing that tidbit into the back of his head for later perusal, Michael stated softly, “You’ve come a long way to meet me. I appreciate the hardship. It must have not been easy seeing the mess of my world as it is now.”

 _Your mess,_ Azriel thought knowingly, but aloud he managed to admit, “Your world is your own. What you do with it is your concern, not ours. Even if the state of it looks like you have leveled the ground in order to rebuild, we cannot fault you for doing so. Earth as it was prior to the… scattering of the playing field, was a bit too pathetic for our tastes.”

“Mmm, you say ‘our’, but what is your own thoughts on my handiwork? I confess to be a bit curious,” Michael purred with a playfulness that instantly made Azriel feel less awkward and more at ease in the Antichrist’s presence.

This sort of dark humor he could understand and share. 

Carefully thinking of a good response, Azriel finally answered in English this time, “I am but a soldier following orders, Mr. Langdon. My opinions do not matter.”

“Fair enough, but please I must insist. Enlighten me to your thoughts,” Michael said, stepping a bit closer, carefully watching Azriel’s response. 

A lot of times nonverbal communication was much more damning than verbal. It was no different here with the Dark Elf in front of him. Azriel tensed a bit more, but forced himself to relax just a bit. Often times humans had no idea what personal bubbles were, and from the looks of things Michael was one of those types of people. Either that, or he chose not to care. 

Michael circled behind him, drawing closer, making Azriel feel like he was a prey animal being hunted and cornered by a predator. Perhaps in this case he was prey to Michael. He didn’t know that much about him, only that he was powerful, and that Azriel had erotic dreams about him. Something about him spoke of an enhancement of sorts, something that was at a higher level than just being human. Maybe this man in front of him was a hybrid. Not quite human, and not quite something else.

Distracting as the other male was, Azriel formulated the truth as he spoke, “Your world was already going to shit in a handbasket, so it makes sense for you to wipe the slate clean and start anew. Yes, it was difficult seeing the innocent suffer outside this Outpost, but I understand that collateral damage happens no matter what sort of action a person can take. War is never without casualties from both sides. Which is why most crave peace.”

Michael came to stand in front of the Elf again, eyes catching his and holding them. When he said nothing, Azriel continued, “I, for one, enjoy battle when innocents are not present. The thrill of the hunt, even the kill is not something I crave, it’s the goal achieved.”

“And what is your goal, when you fight your battles - apart from following your sire’s orders?” Michael asked, intrigued even more now. 

“Why my dear Mr. Langdon, I feel that you would know that answer already,” Azriel said, feeling a bit of playfulness and sarcasm rising within him. When Michael simply raised his eyebrows in response, Azriel purred with a fanged smirk, “That the enemy has been vanquished to the point they are just a pile of ash and dust. That they are fully destroyed and broken, not able to recover. My goal simply has always been and always shall be, to obliterate my enemies to the point that their children even admire my prowess and JOIN with me instead of trying to follow in their parents’ footsteps.”

“Spoken like a true warrior,” Michael murmured, causing Azriel to snicker in amusement. “However, letting the innocent live…. Might it not be considered a weakness? They could rise up again to try and defeat you.”

“Indeed, it is a weakness I must deal with. I file it in with my weakness for soft plush animals and baby real animals, but alas, none of us are perfect,” Azriel admitted dryly, not seeing a point in trying to cover up the truth. 

“I agree. If that were so, the universe would be a boring place to live in, now wouldn’t it?” Michael stepped a bit closer, finally coming to a stop not even a foot away from Azriel.

Azriel swallowed, noting exactly what Michael was doing, though he wasn’t sure of the reason. He took in a deeper breath in spite of himself, and nearly felt his whole being go into senses overload. Michael was aroused apparently. Either that, or the lust pouring off of him in waves was merely part of his persona and insanely dark aura. Narrowing his eyes a bit, he tried to avoid looking away from Michael’s gaze. He feared if he faltered eye contact now, it would be deemed as a win on Michael’s part.

And Azriel wasn’t about ready to let this other male, regardless of how powerful a human hybrid he was, steal the win just yet. So, Azriel opted to move into Michael’s personal space before the Antichrist could force him into it. He said softly, “Being perfect is overrated. Being unique is a gift and a pleasure. Of that, we can both agree on.”

When Michael slowly smiled in answer to his not so covert maneuver, Azriel knew he had scored a point in the Antichrist’s book. Not stopping to do a ridiculous victory dance just yet, Azriel turned and walked towards the fire, finding strangely that it’s flames were of less heat than Michael. In fact, with each step he took leading away from the human hybrid, Azriel felt a bit colder, and more bereft. 

“You aren’t afraid of me, are you?” Michael whispered, smile turning into a grin when the Dark Elf rolled his eyes.

“Wary of you, yes. I am not an imbecile. Afraid of you however, no, I am not,” Azriel admitted, absently reaching up to rub his fingers on the smooth mantel above the fireplace, enjoying the texture.

“When you first walked in here, startled and a bit nervous, I had wondered why the King of the Dark Elves sent you of all people to become a liaison with myself. But, now I understand,” Michael said, feeling drawn to this Dark Elf even more now. “King Davrin knew all too well what he was doing in sending you to me. We might not have the same ideals - of what I can tell from this brief meeting, but we have the same understandings. I am now quite looking forward to our continued negotiations, Mr. Davari.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply nodded in response. 

It wasn’t long after that that Azriel was dismissed and was able to breathe easier going back to his rooms. The Antichrist had also had a long journey, and was tired. Whether or not the human hybrid would sleep in this hellhole, Azriel wasn’t sure, nor did he really want to know. All he cared about at this point was filing his report, and being blessedly alone. Luckily he was able to get both of those wishes granted. He was not bothered by any of the other occupants of the Outpost that evening, and he was able to send out what information he thought was relevant to the mission. 

It was a bit unnerving to not have any further information from the Oracle or his sire, but Azriel figured that no news was good news. He would continue his conversations and negotiations with the Antichrist for a while unless the man did something to threaten his realm. At this point, Azriel wasn’t sure what Michael’s scheme was, and that was frustrating.

But, puzzles were fun and he was determined to solve this one.

Just after a full night’s rest.

### 

That night, his dreams turned a bit more bloody, but no less erotic. This time, he was in a pool of sorts, soft candles were lit on strategic areas around the circular room. Warm water was cascading over his skin, and as it trickled down to nothing, he realized that the man so prevalent in his dreams as of late, was assisting him in his bath. Michael dipped his hands into the water and then moved to rest them on Azriel’s shoulders. 

Looking up, the fey noticed that Michael’s arms were cut in deep strips, blood trickling down his skin, decorating it in crimson streaks. The smell of blood was thick and Azriel felt hunger surge within him, but Michael seemed to not be any weaker with the loss of blood. Figuring that his dream was nothing more than his own overactive imagination, Azriel opted to reach up and stroke Michael’s face, the skin so soft it felt like heaven.

Or perhaps hell.

Michael smirked, as if in understanding of his thoughts before he leaned down to capture the fey’s lips with his own. Azriel moaned in spite of himself, feeling electricity run through his entire being. Closing his eyelids with a shudder, the kiss grew more fervent and passionate. It wasn’t long before Michael was in the bath with him, wonderfully wet and naked, his skin glistening with water droplets. Azriel ached to touch him, and Michael obliged him, allowing the fey’s hands to roam to their heart’s content. He felt fire under his hands, and everywhere Michael touched him sent electric sparks into his skin and blood. 

Their kiss grew more desperate, and finally Michael bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and Azriel felt his lust pinnacle in a flash of blinding red light. 

When Azriel woke, he was on the floor, tangled in his sheets and panting up a storm. This time, his body had succeeded in full completion, and he grimaced as he felt his cock pulse again, spurting out a bit more come. “Damnit,” He muttered, trying to get up and failing.

Shivering and letting out a moan, his body still highly sensitized due to his dream’s stimulation, the fey flopped over onto his back in defeat. 

This was getting out of hand.

### 

A few dorm suites down from Azriel’s, Michael’s eyes opened and he slowly smirked, stretching like a pleased cat, body sated for a long moment. He hadn’t fed off of that high of a sexual energy before, and he quite liked it. In fact, he almost felt drunk on it. 

_Though I don’t know much about you, Azriel Davari, you definitely have the most intense dreams,_ Michael thought, feeling amused and playful. With a soft huff, the dark ginger haired man got out of bed to start the day, feeling more intrigued by the fey from the parallel dark world. 

Ever since the Armageddon, Michael had learned all sorts of things from the demons of the underworld serving his father. And though he normally wasn’t interested in carnal pleasures, feeling that reaching his goals far surpassed a high that any kind of physical stimulus could ever give him, once in a while he slipped into his subject’s minds while they slept. Succubi and Incubi had taught him how to feed off of lust in dreams, and humans often had a more fervent imagination while helpless in their sleep. 

Most of the time, he didn’t take part in those sensual dreams, just observing and feeding off of the overflowing lust and sexual energy in the air around him. But, for some reason, this time, his subconscious mind had connected himself with Azriel’s without Michael’s intention. And for the first time, he was able to see just what was inside Azriel’s mind. It was then that he had seen that the fey had dreamed about him for almost a week prior to them meeting for the first time.

It made sense then why the fey had been so awkward the day before after colliding with him.

That would have shocked anyone, he figured.

Having someone from his dream world turning out to be real must have been surprising to Azriel, and then realizing that this person was the Antichrist…. Michael was most impressed that the fey had been able to hold a normal conversation with him after that revelation. Licking his lips as he bathed, Michael allowed himself just once to give in to his body’s demands. Closing his eyes and visualizing Azriel’s lips on his, the feel of his cool hands on his burning skin, the taste of blood on his tongue, Michael ran his hands down his dripping wet body, finding several erogenous places to stimulate. 

Hissing softly as he tweaked his sensitive nipples, Michael bit his lower full lip to keep from moaning too loud. He, of all people, knew exactly how much sound carried in this place. But, he couldn’t help the ragged grunt being ripped through his mouth once his hand finally reached his pulsing hard cock. Bracing himself up against the shower wall with one arm, resting his forehead in the crease of his elbow, Michael pleasured himself with his other hand in firm, sure strokes.

Drunk on lust, Michael couldn’t keep his moans quiet much longer, and he muffled his mouth on his forearm. The feel of his hand on his skin shouldn’t feel so good, but it did. He blamed it on overfeeding from the fey in that erotic shared dream. If Azriel tasted as good as he did in that dream, then Michael was bent on tasting his lips again, this time for real. And if he was this turned on by just a sensuous kiss, the feel of hands on his shoulders and back, Michael wondered just how good Azriel would feel underneath him, splayed and pliant as he pounded into his tight heat.

Coming so hard he saw stars in his eyes, Michael let out a long guttural growl, his come spurting all over the shower wall, his chest, and stomach. Stroking himself a few more minutes as he calmed from his high, Michael let out a soft curse, feeling more sensitive than he’d ever felt after completion. Cupping his balls and rolling them a bit, Michael let out a surprised gasp as he spurted out come again in long strips.

“Fuck,” Michael hissed out, legs weak and chest heaving. 

Later, after he was dressed, Michael stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and slowly smirked, feeling much like a predator on a hunt. 

Perhaps Azriel would be actually disappointing in real life outside of his dreams, but Michael highly doubted that. Even if the fey proved to be not much more than a plaything, Michael was determined to enjoy unlocking his secrets, one by one. As long as he didn’t deviate from his goals, Michael figured that he could enjoy seducing one fey warrior at the same time.

### 

Azriel was in the process of heading down the stairs to return another book a bit later that morning, when he heard shouting coming from the dining area. The whole place was abuzz due to Emily finding snakes in her bedroom. When one was starving, it was good to eat what you could, he supposed.

He wasn’t sure why the dining occupants were yelling but soon the screams died down and he headed towards the lounge once on the lower floor, his boots silent as he moved. Letting out a resigned sigh, the fey quickly and quietly put the book back where he had found it in the lounge and was in the process of looking for another when he suddenly felt eyes on him. Blinking slowly, he pretended to be engrossed in another book in latin, thumbing through a few pages, not even having to smell the air much to know who it was that was watching him from above at an area near the railing. 

He then heard something hissing softly nearby, and he absently moved to the side so that the snake might pass, figuring perhaps the humans had forgotten to kill one. It looked to be in search of something, probably rodents or something of that nature. Azriel was surprised when the creature slowly slithered up the wall and onto the bookshelves, coming towards his head. He paused in his futile attempt at looking through the book in his hands and raised his blue gaze to meet the creature’s stare head on.

Narrowing his eyes, he noted that the snake simply slithered up to him and promptly stayed put, as if it felt safe. Or maybe something else was at work. This snake seemed to be quite small, perhaps it was a youth? With a quiet resigned sigh of understanding, Azriel was thankful the Antichrist was behind him and above, otherwise he would have seen the biggest eye roll on the face of the planet. Taking a delicate sniff in the direction of the snake, his suspicions were confirmed. The snake smelled like Michael. 

He suddenly knew all too well what must have happened in the dining area.

Azriel had to admit, the Antichrist had a wickedly dark sense of humor.

“Mmmm, so you must be a part of all that fuss in the other room, aren’t you, little one?” Azriel didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one. 

Still the sound of scurrying people made Azriel make a split second decision. He reached up and carefully plucked the snake up and hid it in his outer maroon and black tunic, hoping against hope that the creature would not bite him. He had always been good with animals, regardless of the species, and snakes were no different. Still, with Michael feeling mischievous, he hoped that he wouldn’t get a nasty fanged attack in return for saving one of his creatures.

He hitched a breath as the snake slithered up near his heart. But then the fey exhaled in relief when the snake promptly went still, hanging off of his shoulder in the process. He wasn’t sure why the snake would want to settle around his heart. Dark Elves were known to almost have ice in their blood, and Azriel was no different. About the only time Azriel really got warm was right after he had fed from hot blood. Now that he thought about it, the snake did feel way warmer than any he had encountered before.

That could be due to it being Michael’s creature.

Azriel took up his book and made ready to leave when Coco and some others came into the room, the pungent odors of fear and anger wafting from their scents. Once Coco spotted him, she started heading his way, and Azriel mentally cursed a blue streak. He snapped his eyes up to look at where he could have sworn Michael had been standing not a few seconds ago, and noted it was empty of any humans. Dropping his eyes to Coco’s bright, if still fearful smile, he resigned himself of dealing with some socialization.

It was pure torture and finally when he was able to excuse himself and make his way up the stairs, he nearly collided with Michael yet again, only this time at the top of the stairs. He was able to stop himself in time, but swallowed carefully, his eyes still showing annoyance he imagined. Michael looked at him a bit impishly, even as he gestured in the direction of Ms. Venable’s office. 

Not having much of a choice, Azriel followed the dark ginger haired human hybrid into the room, sitting when he was offered a chair. The snake rustled a bit on his chest and he reached in to pluck the creature out of its hiding place. Michael closed the doors to the office and came over to stand by the fire, feeling all kind of amused. 

“Do you like her?” Michael finally asked, once he noted that Azriel was handling the small black snake with care.

“She’s beautiful,” Azriel murmured, before holding up the snake for Michael to take. Michael arched an eyebrow in confusion, and then he shook his head.

“Keep her. She’s yours,” Michael insisted, opting to sit down on the other side of the fey, who looked really puzzled at the moment. “You said you had a weakness for baby animals, why not have one then? For at least while you are here.”

“I have nothing to feed her,” Azriel said softly, shock permeating his mind as he looked down at the snake now coiling around his wrist, her tongue tickling his skin. 

Was Michael truly just giving him a snake? As a gift or for what reason? It boggled his mind. Usually when someone was gifted with an animal of any kind in his homeland, it meant the beginning of courtship. He seriously doubted Michael would know of his land’s customs, but he couldn’t be sure. What was Michael playing at?

“She is self sustaining, you won’t have to worry about that sort of thing,” Michael said, leaning forward to take one of Azriel’s hands, feeling a bit worried all of a sudden. “Do you not want her?”

“No - I mean yes, I want her,” Azriel said, honestly beside himself. He was so out of his game that he accepted Michael’s touch on his hand. Coughing softly, the fey explained, “It’s just that no one has ever given me a gift before.”

Michael’s blue eyes softened, and he smiled. “Well then I am very happy that I could be your first gifter.” Knowing he had to be cautious, considering he’d just put Azriel off balance, Michael released his hand and reached up to touch his hair. Apparently he wasn’t cautious enough.

“Please don’t,” Azriel said, not so far gone that he didn’t know what Michael was doing now. He swallowed and pulled away from Michael’s questing hand, and shivered when the Antichrist managed to touch some of his white strands. The result was electric.

Suddenly on his feet, Azriel made to leave, all thoughts of his mission out of his mind. He just wanted to get away from the temptation. As he neared the door, Michael’s apologetic voice stopped him in his tracks. “I am sorry. Please don’t leave. I won’t touch your hair again unless you want me to. I promise.”

Michael forced himself not to grab the panicked fey’s wrist, but he did come to stand in front of him, barring the door, though perhaps unnecessarily. Azriel looked at Michael and swallowed before murmuring, “Ok. I just… I am not sure what you know about my people but… hair touching is very… very intimate an act. It’s like someone sticking their tongue down your throat.”

“I was not aware of that, I just simply wanted to comfort you, as you seemed so out of sorts,” Michael said softly, taking in Azriel’s scent. Yet again he wished he could see into the other’s mind, but he knew that if he breached Azriel’s barrier around his thoughts without permission, at least during the time he was awake, then the fey would never trust him again. It was maddening, but he had to be patient. Noting that Azriel was now almost calmed down to where he was breathing shallowly, but evenly, he caught the fey’s blue gaze and whispered, “Please forgive me.”

Azriel regarded the gorgeous man in front of him, looking somber and almost kind of pitiful and he ached to see that look on his face. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t like seeing Michael chastised and repentant. At least not in this sort of way. Licking his lips, he nodded slowly. “There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t know what would happen. It’s not your fault. I apologize for panicking.”

“You had every right to panic,” Michael asserted, still somber. “I should know my boundaries, especially with people I haven’t known long. From now on, unless you touch me, or ask me to touch you, I’ll not invade your personal space.”

 _Yeah right_ , Azriel thought, but then opted to nod in agreement. There was nothing else he could do at this point. Whether or not that the Antichrist would abide by his own words remained to be seen. He just had to contend with the fact that at least he said them. Azriel again advanced more into the room and sat down near the fire, Michael taking up residence in front of him in the other chair. Feeling a bit annoyed with himself for panicking like that, regardless if it was just a fight or flight response, Azriel finally murmured, “You can… you can touch me, just not my hair or my ears. For now.”

He was sure he was flushing scarlet by the time Michael was done looking him over appraisingly. But, he didn’t back down and Michael slowly smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. Apparently Azriel wasn’t opposed to future intimate gestures, he just wasn’t ready for it now. That made sense, especially considering the both of them were from two completely different worlds and had only met the day before. Dream sharing aside, Michael would bide his time and wait as long as he was able to for Azriel to become at ease in his presence. 

So, Michael calmed down his seduction and opted to try and have a normal conversation with the fey. He had enjoyed their talk the night before, and wouldn’t mind continuing it. Plus, it would be best to get Azriel’s mind off of what had just happened. “It seems, that you are having trouble with the others here.”

“Mmm, if by trouble you are meaning being stalked every time I meet with them, then yes,” Azriel stated dryly, feeling a bit grateful for the change in topics.

“Being stalked?” Michael’s face split into a grin and Azriel all but glowered at him, knowing that the man was way more amused than he should be about this.

“Yes. I am sure you will have the same problem once you meet with them. Ms. Coco is one very irritating person that will not stop complaining and will not leave me alone whenever I am in her presence,” Azriel explained with a rumble, idly rubbing his fingers over his new pet snake. “If it’s not my hair she is fascinated with, it’s my so called ‘cosplay’ wear, whatever the hell that means.”

Michael couldn’t help it, but he started chuckling in mirth and when the fey in front of him openly glowered daggers at him, he coughed and managed to control himself. “I apologize but the situation is quite humorous if you think about it. You’ve been here, what - a week now?” At Azriel’s nod, he continued, “These people have only seen each other for a total of eighteen months with no outside interaction, and no way of ‘copulating’. So, of course they are going to go crazy when they see someone as attractive as you are come inside the Outpost. I seriously doubt any of them would mind someone ugly coming in either as long as it was someone different. But, the fact that you came into their midst, it must be very hard for them to keep their emotions to themselves.”

 _So you know about Ms. Venable’s rules as well. Interesting,_ Azriel thought, though he flushed when he noted that the human hybrid had just complimented him. Licking his lips and trying to come up with words to say, he finally settled with, “Well it’s annoying. I am not one for crowds, and I am not much of a social creature either. I am beginning to miss the comfort of being alone.”

Michael could relate to that sentiment. There were times when he was a child that he needed people. Needed them around to make him feel safe and cared for. But, now, he enjoyed being alone more often than not. Alone, he didn’t have to put on appearances, or try to win someone over with a smile. He could just be himself for a while and reflect. And, alone, he didn’t have to deal with someone betraying him.

“I understand completely. But, avoidance is perhaps only going to work in your favor for a bit longer. The more they see of you, the more they will want to interact with you,” Michael warned softly, leaning forward to clasp his hands in front of him. “I have read all of their files, and I now only have to just meet them to get a sense of who they are. I am not sure if any of them are going to turn out as people I can take to my sanctuary. If they aren’t they will be eliminated.”

“Sounds like you have your work cut out for you. At least they won’t have to wait in suspense of their futures for much longer,” Azriel commented, feeling himself relax more in the Antichrist’s presence. When Michael was not out to seduce, and was just holding a normal conversation - if talking about people’s fate was considered normal - Azriel could identify with him on some levels. Even relate.

“Indeed.” Michael then smirked. “Tell me your opinion of them. And before you protest, I am not looking for encyclopedias or books of information. I just want to know what you think of them, even if your interactions with them have been brief thus far.”

Azriel narrowed his eyes, regarding the Antichrist carefully. He had known that going through alliance negotiations was going to involve getting to know the shrewd man in front of him, so perhaps humoring him in this case would be beneficial to his mission. At this point he still didn't know what to think of the enigma that was Michael. Some moments he thought he had the Antichrist figured out and then the man would do something completely unexpected. 

When Michael was playing the seducer, Azriel couldn't think properly at all. It was as if everything the man did was specifically tuned to dominating the fey and he wasn't used to dealing with that sort of attention. Even if the human hybrid was just looking at him in a seductive way had Azriel practically thwarted. This was a battle he knew he wouldn't be able to win if the Antichrist continued to pursue him. 

The temptation would be way too great.

And the fact that Michael seemed to understand that but had backed off puzzled Azriel. The fey licked his lips and finally spoke, opting for truth, “In all honesty, the only one I can seem to relate to and respect the most is Ms. Mead.”

Michael smiled genuinely, pleased about this. He gestured for Azriel to continue. The fey did so, his voice a bit bored and aloof as he started describing the others, “Ms. Venable likes to play the iron fist and punisher. She would have been a valuable battle trainer in my world, but she also lets her thrill for power overrun her judgement. 

“Her subordinates are loyal, though Ms. Mead seems the closest to her in rank and in personal intimacy. Unlike Ms. Venable, Ms. Mead is a soldier and would make the perfect right hand advisor to any leader. She has a level head and has enough steel and sarcasm in her to make me almost envious.” At that comment Michael let out a surprised laugh, causing Azriel to join in with a snicker. 

Michael's laughter was infectious, even when sinister and the fey didn't have to wonder just how he managed to charm people into falling at his feet if he didn't kill them first. He figured his sire would be most impressed. 

“Mmmm she definitely does have admirable attributes,” Michael allowed, reaching up to rub his bottom lip idly. 

“You sound like you know her personally,” Azriel assumed.

Michael nodded slowly, not wanting to give away too much but figuring this sort of information was harmless to give to the fey. “She doesn't remember me yet but yes, she's very dear to me.”

 _Interesting_ , Azriel thought before he guessed, “You had her constructed.”

 _Very intuitive, Mr. Davari,_ Michael mused to himself, noting that it shouldn't be surprising since the fey probably could smell that Ms. Mead was not human physically. He simply smirked in answer and Azriel accepted it as the only affirmative answer he would get on the subject for now.

“I will not interfere,” Azriel said softly, making sure that the words were said even if the Antichrist didn't believe him to be a threat. “I'm only here to carry out my orders, nothing more. I'll keep your confidence and not divulge to anyone, not even my sire. Unless it affects my mission, my sire does not need to know anything else.”

“I believe you, and appreciate your discretion,” Michael murmured, leaning back in his chair, folding one slender leg over the other. “What of the others, the greys and the purples?”

Azriel let out a whoosh of breath, allowing himself to relax a bit more, noting that his new pet snake had fallen asleep, content and warm. His back still straight due to habit more than anything else, the fey continued, “Ms. Dinah Stevens, I am not sure of. I don't think she likes me very much, or at least she might sense my darker nature. She's wary and puts up an innocent and caring front too much trying to hide her own dark self. As one dark creature to another, she perhaps does not want to interact with me lest her true nature comes forth. Her son is a bit of an overly dramatic baffoon, though even he might have latent abilities. To his credit, he doesn't seem to hide what he is like his mother does.

“The two love birds Tim and Emily, they are a bit too sickenly sweet and have enough tension between them one could cut it with a sword. Tim is definitely intelligent but is still grappling with teenage hormones to let his true wit come forth. Emily is a bit of the same, but her clausterphobia is starting to hedge her so I'm sure that she'll want to plan an escape regardless of how foolish that idea may be.” Azriel paused for a moment, thinking to himself about the others. Michael studied him with a small tilt of the lips. It wasn't quite an evil smirk but it was definitely suggesting that he was humored.

Licking his lips, Azriel went on, “As for Mr. Gallant and his grandmother, the two of them are so completely different in emotions and psyche but both of them share in their will to survive. Mr. Gallant comes across as shallow but that's just a front. He is shrewd but more artistic than his grandmother. Despite also being a bit annoying, he's more tolerable to deal with than Evie. To her credit, she does have a wealth of knowledge, but she feels the need to cram that information down everyone's throat no matter if they ask for it or not.

“Ms. Coco is highly dependent on her assistant Mallory and has no trouble demeaning her at all times. She complains so much she could fill a entire castle with her irritable miasma. Honestly the woman wouldn't be so bad if she just stopped complaining - and stop harassing me,” Azriel stated with an eye roll. “I am not sure if she is shallow to a fault or if she's hiding her true nature. Her assistant Mallory is intelligent but lets Coco bully her and belittle her no matter what. Perhaps she is used to it, I'm not sure. She's very much as timid but also shrewd as a mouse. I'm sure if push came to shove she'd survive no matter what happens to her.”

“The other greys I have not had the pleasure in interacting with, as they kept to themselves. But they seem dutiful, if for survival's sake if not because of loyalty,” Azriel finished speaking, noting that the fire in the fireplace had gone down to mere embers. His night vision switched on and he blinked a few times, noting that Michael now had a more demonic presence than before. His face was pale, eyes black and as soon as he recognized the form as Michael's mark as the son of Satan, the vision in front of him faded back into his more ethereal human form.

Michael regarded him for a while, noting that the fey hadn't been affected by a glimpse of his other form. He'd been too relaxed and careless, allowing that form to come through, but his companion strangely didn't seem to care. His scent hadn't changed and he hadn't moved besides blinking his eyes a couple of times. The inaction puzzled Michael. Normally the only other person he had encountered that hadn't balked at his demonic form was Ms. Mead.

Even Madelyn had reacted in fear when she'd merely looked at his mark behind his ear, though she had been kind to him for the short time he'd been with her. All the others had been even more fearful of his dark form, so it surprised him that this fey seemed not to care. Perhaps he had seen other scary looking creatures in his homeworld and was used to it.

It was refreshing.

Granted he found fear a useful tool, but before Michael had found out who he truly was, he had hated it. He had hated it when people closest to him betrayed him because they thought him a monster and were scared. All he had wanted in those days was acceptance and love. Nothing more. Now, of course, he wasn't like that. His goals were vast and he didn't give in to sentiment. Still, it was nice to know that someone else didn't recoil from him.

Azriel was definitely a unique individual. 

It made him all the more fascinating to Michael. He would, of course, have to proceed carefully if he was going to continue in pursuing the fey. He'd have to bide his time, but Michael was determined. The fey would be his, eventually.

Finally Michael murmured, “Thank you for your input, Mr. Davari. You've given me a lot to think about.”

“You may call me Azriel if you wish,” The fey offered with a small smile. “Or Azzy. I feel like though we've known each other for a short time, that if things progress, this could be the beginning of an excellent friendship, not just an alliance.”

The genuine smile that split Michael's face in response was definitely a win in Azriel's book. He had taken a rare gamble with the other male, offering his name as a means to secure more ground with him. He'd made the right decision it seemed. 

_Progress,_ Michael thought, pleased. Of course trust still had to be earned, but this was a good sign. Whether or not Azriel would turn out to be a betrayer didn't matter. Michael was beginning to understand that if he wanted to get Azriel's mind, not just his body, he'd have to give in just a bit. If friendship is what Azriel wanted for now, he'd accept it. 

And though Michael doubted the fey would ever even think about betraying him or his sire, the Antichrist would have no qualms snapping his pretty little neck in the future, should the unthinkable happen. Michael didn't trust easy, and it seems neither did Azriel.

Mixing pleasure with business was a dangerous thing to do, but the more he was in Azriel's presence, the more he wanted him. And as Madelyn had stated a few years ago, there was not anything or anyone he could not have.

“Indeed, Azriel. You may call me Michael,” The man said silkily, feeling that at least this was a start. “As it is, though I know now that you don't like socialization, I would be pleased if you joined everyone in the lounge tonight as I make my formal entry into their situation.”

“Of course, I wouldn't be opposed to suffering their company if I have someone to level the playing field present.” Azriel smirked, suddenly looking forward to this evening. He was curious to see how the others would take to Michael. 

“Excellent,” Michael responded, matching Azriel's expression in kind.


	3. Cooperating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of VERY mild non con touching (Coco manages to touch Azriel's hair) and slavery, so just to forewarn. Otherwise, enjoy the chapter. Things are getting even more heated (as if that's possible).
> 
> Also, big thank you to my buddies LostSpaceCadetLeon and Syperius on Discord for giving me way too many ideas about this chapter (and future ones)

Gliding on silent feet into the library lounge area, Azriel took up his spot near the bookcase on the left side of the room. He watched as others filed in from the dining area, one by one sitting down in the oversized sofas if they were purples and taking a stand either at various points on the top floor balcony or at the entrance to the room if they were greys. Azriel covertly watched them as the purples began their unnecessary and dull conversations. 

It was surprisingly a longer while for them to notice he was even there. The young grey Mallory spotted him first and brushed past him to assist Coco, still wary of him, though he did not blame her. Self preservation was definitely an attribute he could admire. His black slitted blue gaze regarded all of them with mild aloofness, not here to interact with them if he could help it.

And after Coco complained and started bickering with Evie, he was even more anxious to see how Michael would treat them. Would he be ruthless, killing them all with a flick of his wrist? Or would he decide to test them all, one by one? The Antichrist seemed to enjoy chaos and pranks, perhaps he would unnerve them all and enjoy in playing with them until he grew bored. Azriel had to admit that he was very intrigued to find out the answer. 

Especially after Coco spotted him and motioned for him to come sit by her. He smirked slightly, but politely shook his head no. There was no way in hell he was going to humor her in this. She pouted, but then Gallant moved over to sit by her and she was distracted. He could have kissed the man if not for the fact that the human was definitely not his type. 

Ms. Venable came to join them, followed by Ms. Mead, who offered him a small understanding smirk. He refrained from returning it, but he did tilt his head to the right and winked at her slyly. The end result had the android come over to where he was to stand. Ms. Venable raked her gaze over him curiously but said nothing. 

The smell of human blood was overpowering and he figured he might be hard pressed staying in such close proximity to these people for the whole evening. His rations had started to become ineffective to his hunger and he knew why. Out of all the humans currently at the Outpost, Michael was the one who's blood smelled the best. Delicious, hot, and thick, just breathing it in was mouthwatering. So it would make sense that no matter how many blood rations he allowed himself to take, it would never be enough to keep his hunger at bay.

Though alarming as that thought may be, Azriel was stuck. It wasn't like he could tell the Antichrist to tone down his scent. Plus, the more he was around the other male, the harder it was for him to resist. And avoiding the son of Satan would be counterproductive to his mission. 

So, though Azriel felt his fangs lengthen in the presence of all these humans, he suffered through it admirably. Coco had at least not doused herself with perfume. That would have made him want to hurl into the nearest wastebasket. 

“So he wants you here, too?” Ms. Mead asked quietly, her eyes not leaving the other people in the room. 

“Yes,” Azriel allowed, also keeping his eyes on everyone else. 

“I don't suppose you know what this is all about?” Ms. Mead prodded, and Azriel couldn't resist smirking this time in answer. 

“Now, that would be telling, Ms. Mead, and spoil his speech. Let's just say I have a hunch.” At Azriel's comment Ms. Mead snorted in sardonic understanding. 

“Can't blame a woman for trying,” Ms. Mead stated idly, arching one of her dark eyebrows when suddenly everyone grew silent. 

_No I can't, Ms. Mead,_ Azriel thought as his ears caught Michael's footsteps coming down the stairs. 

The Antichrist definitely loved making an entrance. He walked in, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight but that of a casual predator, his eyes surveying the room with mild interest. Azriel noted that the human was dressed in similar style to all of the other male purples in the room, though black, less frivolous and more practical. This knee high boots showed off his lean but muscular calves, and the rest of his clothes were tailored to perfection. Whoever had taught Michael how to dress was to be applauded. That and the fact that Michael had a very keen sense of style, mildly artistic with his red eye makeup accents - it all came together to create a marvelous if malevolent creature. 

Azriel ignored his own attraction the best he could, not about to drool over the Antichrist in front of strangers. However, the sudden influx of increased lust that filtered the air was staggering. Apparently, the humans were affected by Michael even moreso than himself. Either that or Michael had been right in saying that these people would latch on to anyone new due to their dismal situation. The fact that the humans had no way or power to keep their scents and pheromones under control definitely added to the thick tension in the room. 

_Well, at least I'm not the only one affected_ , Azriel thought with amusement. It was also a big relief to see Coco and the others suddenly looking at Michael rather than himself. He was not one used to so much blatant unwanted attention and from the looks of things, Michael seemed to revel in it. Or perhaps he was born for this sort of thing. 

As Michael came to stand near the fireplace, he displaced Ms. Venable with a tilt of his chin. The dark haired woman to her credit showed no sign of annoyance as she came to stand near Ms. Mead, Mary, and Max. Azriel watched Michael play the devil's advocate, his voice soft and smooth as silk as he addressed the humans. 

As he explained the situation in direct detail, only giving crumbs of information, just enough to get his audience's appetite, Azriel grew more impressed. He certainly knew how to enthrall and ensnare the attention of any person he encountered. Though his countenance was smug, Michael still managed to calm people's ire as various interruptions occurred. 

Coco was blatant in her disapproval, as Azriel figured she would be, but Michael shut down her protests with more courtesy than the fey would have had the patience for. Then again, Michael was playing a game - one that he constructed and ruled over, though his players didn't know it yet. 

Except for Ms. Dinah Stevens. Azriel caught her look of understanding and recognition, her eyes speaking no fear but wariness. So, the two knew each other…. Or, perhaps Dinah knew of Michael's heritage at least. Interesting. If they did know each other then that would explain why Michael had not batted an eyelash when Azriel had hinted at her dark nature earlier. 

It made the fey wonder if Michael could sense Mallory or Coco's hidden and repressed magic. Filing that mystery into the back of his mind for further analysis, Azriel noted with some amusement that Mr. Gallant had offered to be the first interviewed. The lust pouring off of him was thick and potent, but if Michael noticed, he didn't comment on it or show any sign of disgust. 

Michael narrowed his eyes in Azriel's direction, noting the fey’s obvious amusement in his eyes. Wondering what the Elf must be thinking about all this, Michael was determined to find out. Alas, he would have to wait on that until after he interviewed Mr. Gallant and Ms. Venable. 

After concluding his announcements, Michael excused himself from the other humans. As he passed by Azriel, he made sure to touch the fey with one hand on his sleeve. He was impressed that Azriel didn't flinch at the contact and he couldn't help feeling like that was a small victory. 

Azriel watched the man leave the room before he reached up and rubbed his arm with a shaky hand. What was Michael playing at? It was almost like he was marking his territory, rubbing his scent and pheromones onto his arm. Perhaps it was nothing, and maybe he was reading in to this too deeply. But, regardless of all that, Azriel now had Michael's intoxicating scent on his tunic. 

He was so caught up in his musings and puzzlement that he didn't realize it when Coco got too close to him until it was too late. Her hands were on his hair, idly twirling a few locks and Azriel had a hard time keeping himself from booting her across the room. As it was, he broke her off from her oncoming tirade with a snarl, “Get your hands off of me Ms. Coco if you want to keep them _attached_ to your person. And if you _dare_ touch me again I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Coco gaped and snatched her hands back, but not before she had seen Azriel's eyes flare electric blue. Azriel promptly excused himself and by the time he was up the stairs, his fangs were bared. Noting he was being followed, but only by Ms. Mead, he went through a tunnel towards his room before he stopped and tried to calm himself down. That had been close.

Too close. 

Ms. Mead came to stand near him but at a respectable distance, and he was thankful for that. She murmured softly, “Your eyes are glowing, but I understand why. I totally am surprised you refrained from smashing Coco's head in, that insufferable woman is driving us all battier than necessary.”

When all Azriel could do was huff in amusement, Ms. Mead caught his gaze and offered him a small smile. “You ok?” She then rolled her eyes, adding, “Obviously you aren't but will you be?”

“Yes. I'm...I'm going to need to take some rations when I get back to my room but I think...I think I'll be ok. Please, if you can, keep her away from me,” Azriel requested, not used to asking for anything, much less protection from unwanted company. 

“I could always just kill her and throw her out for the crazies to feast on.” Ms. Mead grinned when Azriel chuckled. “There you are. Listen, kid, if you need anything, let me know. Ok? This place may be a slight better than hell but it's our hell. You are our guest, not some animal to poke and prod at.”

“Thank you, I'll let you know,” Azriel murmured, feeling better. 

“Don't thank me. Just feel better,” Ms. Mead murmured and Azriel left her, feeling a bit less angry.

### 

After scrubbing his hair so much he was surprised any of it was still attached to his head, Azriel's mood soured even more. He could still smell that perfume Coco used where she had touched him. Feeling irritable and nauseated, Azriel dried himself off and dressed into something more casual than his maroon and black tunic and leggings. 

Flopping onto the bed, he felt his stomach growl embarrassingly. With a muffled curse, the annoyed Elf got up and tugged out a scale from Malfrin's tattoo to grab his supplements. Looking through his pack, he scowled when he couldn't find them. The bottle was gone. 

Azriel refused to panic, though he couldn't help feeling a surge of rage course through him. After ransacking his entire set of rooms in vain, Azriel plopped himself back on to the bed with a huff. Breathing a few times to calm his temper, Azriel closed his eyes and spread his senses wide. 

Some minutes later, after searching the entire Outpost with his mind, Azriel came up empty handed. Either someone had discarded his pills into a waste bin and had incinerated them, or his rations had simply vanished into thin air. Narrowing his eyes at his pet snake who was currently curled up on one pillow near him, he studied her carefully. 

“Self sustaining …. Hopefully that doesn't mean you engulfed a whole bottle of blood supplements,” Azriel murmured as he reached over to run his fingers lightly over her scales. 

The coiled snake hissed softly but otherwise didn't do anything else. 

Huffing out a resigned sigh, Azriel started weighing his options. There weren't many if he wanted to continue his mission. The only two that he could see was either leaving and heading back home for more rations, or asking a few of the humans to become his blood donors for a while. Neither option sounded good. 

A few frustrating hours later, he heard a soft knock on his door. Azriel scowled venomously. He then relaxed when he sensed who it was. Standing and making his way towards the door, the fey had forgotten the state of his rooms. Opening the door to the Antichrist, Azriel noted the man looked worried. 

“Forgive me for my intrusion on your evening privacy but I had to come and see if you were alright. Ms. Venable just explained to me what happened between you and Ms. Vanderbilt,” Michael explained, entering the room once Azriel allowed him admittance. He looked around curiously, asking, “Did someone ransack your room as well?”

A startled sardonic snicker rippled through Azriel before he could suppress it. He shook his head no. “This was all me. I was searching for my blood rations. Apparently either they were incinerated in the trash or have been spirited away somewhere. No matter. I'll figure out a way to survive. I always do. As for what happened earlier…. I'm ok now. Thank you for your concern and I apologize for the mess.”

Michael sat down on the edge of Azriel's bed, carefully watching the fey as he started cleaning up. With a soft sigh, Michael snapped his fingers and everything was cleaned up and put away. At Azriel's questioning look, Michael patted the spot beside him. 

“Come, sit. You are trembling,” Michael murmured, taking in the fey's shaky hands and quick, shallow breaths. He could hear Azriel's heart pumping wildly, and felt the strangest urge to calm it. Or at least get Azriel's mind on to something else. 

The fey regarded Michael for a moment before he figured 'why not’ and sat down next to the human hybrid, breathing in his scent shallowly. “It's alright, Michael. Like you, she wasn't aware of my culture's social and physical rules.”

“If you are trying to keep me from wanting to wring her fucking neck for making you feel threatened, it's not working,” Michael stated firmly, his eyes narrowing as he looked his companion over. “Don't try to compare her to myself. I am nothing like Ms. Coco.”

“You are right. You are nothing like her. I was wrong to imply that. I just mean she didn't know what she was doing,” Azriel amended, feeling strangely thrilled that Michael wanted to protect his honor even though the Antichrist knew full well the fey could take care of himself. 

“That may be but she will never lay a hand on you or bother you again. Make no mistake about that,” Michael said, reaching over to touch Azriel's shoulder to offer comfort to the fey. 

In all honesty Michael had been thoroughly amused when he'd heard the elf earlier that morning complain about Coco. At the time he had figured it was harmless infatuation. How wrong he had been to believe it. Perhaps it was still harmless, but he was not about to let someone else threaten what would soon be his. 

Azriel leaned into the heat that Michael's fingers brought and he whispered softly, “Thank you.”

When Michael reached over to tilt up Azriel's chin, careful not to step all over the fey's boundaries, he caught his gaze and held it. He could tell that Azriel was still shook up, and not just because of Coco's unwanted attentions. The fey looked angry, tired, and hungry. So very hungry. 

“You're ravenous. When was the last time you fed?” Michael asked gently, taking time to rub Azriel's chin as he held it captive. 

Azriel couldn't look away even if he'd wanted to. Michael had him ensnared and a he could to was stammer out honestly, “I had a blood supplement last night.”

Growing more serious, Michael murmured, “That's not what I asked. When was the last time you fed properly?”

Azriel shivered under his gaze, and swallowing carefully he whispered, “A week and a half.” When Michael let go of his chin, Azriel licked his lips and admitted, “I usually can survive on blood rations for over a month. But, without the rations….”

“You'll need a blood donor. Possibly more than one,” Michael assumed, watching as the fey swallowed thickly again. 

“Either that or head back home to get more rations….” It wasn't ideal, either option.

“Out of the question,” Michael stated firmly. Before Azriel could protest, the Antichrist explained, “I want to continue negotiations with your world. Plus, if you leave now, who knows when you'll be back. Or if there will be a place to come back to. I plan on finishing thing here in the next few days and will be closing the Outpost once I leave.”

When Azriel looked away, finally breaking their stares, Michael reached down to take hold of his hands. “Azriel - Azzy, please stay. I can give you what you need.” 

Michael was laying a thick coat of temptation right at Azriel's feet and he wasn't sure what to think at this point. On one hand, if he fed from the Antichrist, he would possibly get an influx of power and perhaps might not need to feed for a while. On the other hand, if he allowed this to happen, then he'd become dependent on Michael...be at his mercy. Michael’s blood and magic would ruin him for anyone else.

He could sense it. He needed no Oracle to tell him this. 

Trembling a bit, he still debated, but soon Michael had enough of waiting for his answer. The man released his hands, and proceeded to roll up his right sleeve. Azriel reached up to stop him, swallowing down panic. 

“I don't want to hurt you,” Azriel blurted out, fangs lengthening at the sight of soft, unmarred skin. 

“Pain and pleasure go hand in hand where I'm concerned,” Michael purred softly, his eyes twinkling with mirth. He gently brushed Azriel's hands away and added, “I assure you, this is in the best interest of both of us. I can't have you rabid, and you can't leave just yet. We are at an impasse until you have fed.”

Azriel looked up into Michael's eyes, searching them for a long moment. “You've given me a pet snake and now you want to give me your life's essence. What do you want in return? Where I come from, nothing is for free.”

 _You. I want you, body and mind_ , Michael thought but aloud he whispered, “Your friendship and a big step into our alliance is enough.”

So, for whatever reason, Michael wanted him. But why? It made no sense to Azriel. Still, Azriel was no fool, and he knew that if he was to succeed in this mission, then he'd have to get something in writing and blood soon. What better way than to give Michael something in return to bind them both in blood? 

Perhaps not tonight, for he didn't want to press the other man. But maybe tomorrow, when Azriel was fully sated from his hunger, he could offer some of his own blood to Michael. He'd never done negotiation relations like this but he knew that various colleagues of his and soldiers did this every so often. If that's what it took to get a strengthened alliance between their worlds, then he would do it. 

And the resulting pleasure would be an added attribute. 

So, when Michael manifested a dagger and placed the metal at the vulnerable soft skin below his wrist, Azriel's grip was iron when he stopped the human's actions. Before Michael could get out of his grip, Azriel's eyes flashed electric blue and he purred out silkily, “Very well, Michael, if you _insist_. I accept your gift.”

Michael smirked slightly but let out a soft hitched breath when Azriel took up his wrist and licked a long, sinuous strip up against the barely covered veins. With a heated growl, Azriel struck with a cold viciousness that instantly made Michael turned on to the point if pain. 

The cold burn of Azriel's fangs in his skin felt so intense, and pleasure rippled through Michael like a tempest. Letting out a soft moan, not being able to help himself, Michael bit his lower lip and tried his best to keep still. Azriel's eyelids drooped in ecstasy as the first gush of Michael's intoxicating blood hit his tongue. He let out a ragged grunt in pleasure as the hot, fiery liquid cascaded down his throat, quenching his hunger like nothing ever had before. 

One gulp was all it took to feel completely and utterly sated, but Azriel couldn't stop feeding from Michael even if he tried. It was as if Michael was possessing his body through his blood, owning him, claiming him and Azriel was lost in the sea of pleasure and bloodlust. With each drop that he took from Michael he was forever damned, becoming a servant that was addicted to his essence. And with every gasp and moan that was ripped from Michael's lips, Azriel wanted more. 

So much more. 

Before he could realize what he was doing, he'd ended up in Michael's lap, kissing him senseless as the raging fire and lust rushed through him. Blood and the taste of Michael's mouth was overwhelmingly delicious and Azriel growled heatedly as he grew drunk on power and pleasure. Michael allowed him his mindblowing kiss for several long minutes before he pulled away, reaching up to grip Azriel's hips to still them from rolling against his. 

Both men panted and gasped for breath, Azriel so drugged on bloodlust and inner fire that he couldn't help but whine at not being able to move his hips. Hands on Michael's shoulders, Azriel dimly realized he was touching the human's hair unintentionally. But, Michael didn't seem to be upset. 

In fact, he reached up and took hold of one of Azriel's hands, nuzzling and kissing his palm tenderly. “May I?” Azriel asked, swallowing audibly as Michael nibbled on the veins at the juncture of his wrist.

“Yes,” Michael whispered, his breathing calming more to a steady rhythm. “As long as I can return it in kind.”

Azriel flushed, but nodded, his bloodlust calming enough for him to realize just what they were doing but not enough to make him shy. As soon as he touched Michael's soft and silky dark ginger hair, Azriel was lost in the feeling. He leaned down and captured Michael's lips again, but this time less fervent. 

Michael let out a soft rumbling growl and deepened the kiss, his hands delving gently into Azriel's soft hair. It was then that he understood just how sensitive Azriel's hair was. It was like an extension of his skin, fibers full of nerve endings and feeling. No wonder Dark Elves viewed hair touching to be so intimate. 

Azriel pulled away and let out a ragged moan, pleasure sparking through everywhere Michael touched. On edge so fast, Azriel wasn't prepared for the onslaught of such intense erotic feelings. Letting out a helpless wail, the fey came so hard he blacked completely out.

Michael tugged Azriel's limp frame against him, shuddering through his own powerful climax. Letting out soft gasps, Michael buried his face into Azriel's cool neck, enjoying the feel of him in his arms. He hadn't expected this.

Of course he knew that he'd have the Elf in his arms sooner or later but he had no idea how incredible it would feel. He was shaken to the bone and his soul felt like it was singing. Breathing in the fey's wintry scent, Azriel felt a sudden dark and possessive need to protect this male. It was fierce and almost blew his breath away. 

Finally managing to get Azriel fully on to the bed, cleansing the both of them of their desires with a flick of his wrist, Michael set about tugging his clothes off. Once clad only in black silk briefs, Michael settled in to spoon the fey protectively. Azriel's skin was cool to the touch, and it felt so good against his burning hot body. Burying his face into the slumbering Elf's neck, Michael felt himself grow drowsy and content for the first time in a long while.

### 

That night, both Azriel and Michael slept peacefully with no dreams tempting them. Azriel woke up once during the night, feeling as if he had the coziest, warmest blanket surrounding him, making him feel safe and secure. If it wasn’t for Michael’s heartbeat thrumming against his back, or the sweet and steady breaths whooshing through his white hair at his nape, Azriel would have felt like he was back at home. Michael was wrapped around him so tightly and securely that the fey figured that he wouldn’t be able to untangle himself without waking him up. So, he just lay there, basking in the strange and addictive feeling of being wanted.

Cherished.

Finally opting to move, feeling like only half of his body was getting the warmth it needed, the Dragon Elf turned in the Antichrist’s arms, settling in a bit more comfortably and resting his head into Michael’s chest. Michael rumbled slightly in contentment, sleepily cuddling Azriel more firmly to him in response. Before sleep could take Azriel again, Michael murmured softly, “Mine.”

Azriel snickered a bit, but didn’t disagree.

It was futile to resist temptation, when it came to Michael.

He just hoped that being with Michael like this would not eventually turn into something he couldn’t handle. If Michael ever asked him to betray his sire, he’d be destroyed. Figuratively, and shortly after, physically and mentally. Pushing away the dark thoughts, Azriel was content to live in the moment and ignore the future for a while. And as Michael’s hand began caressing his hair ever so gently, only meaning to comfort, not arouse, Azriel was lulled back to sleep, feeling way more protected than he’d ever felt before.

### 

The next morning, two things popped through Azriel’s head as he woke and stretched. One, his bed was empty of Michael regrettably. And two, how in the hell had he managed to both tell Michael hell no about touching his hair and then turn right back around and allow him to nearly fuck his brains out through stroking it in the span of one DAY? With a muffled groan of embarrassment, Azriel flopped onto his stomach and contemplating never getting up out of bed for the foreseeable future. 

His snake, bless her soul, was currently curled up in the sink in the bathroom, and he could hear her hissing a bit contently. She must have made a bee line out of his bed when Michael had come over the night before. Smart snake. Groping his pillow absently and contemplating all that had happened the last night, Azriel didn’t really know how in the hell he was going to face the Antichrist after this. 

He had, in simple terms, gone all horny submissive all over Michael just due to one feeding. Azriel wasn’t picky when it came to his romantic liaisons when he did manage to have them. He didn’t mind being dominant or submissive. But, something about Michael made him WANT to submit. Want to bend over and let the Antichrist plow into him like some demented beast. He supposed he did manage to get Michael to submit to his kisses at first, so that was something. 

With a soft sigh, Azriel figured that regardless of how embarrassed and ashamed he felt, he didn’t regret last night. If anything, he was practically jubilant that for once in a long while he was so fully sated he wasn’t even thinking much about feeding at all. Still feeling a bit buzzed, Azriel rested, contemplating his next course of action, when he finally noticed a small folded note beside his bed on the nightstand next to a soft looking bat plushie.

Flushing, wondering if Michael had any idea what he was doing to him, giving him all these presents, the fey reached over and plucked both the plushie and the note up to look at. He sniffed the plushie delicately, noting it smelled like Michael. Smiling in delight, he touched the fake fur gently, enjoying the soft and silky feel. Making the little wings move a bit, Azriel barely refrained from squealing like a teenage Elfling getting something from their first crush. Azriel briefly wondered how in the hell Michael had managed to get one with the state of his world being as it was, but he shrugged it off and figured that the man had his ways. 

Tugging up the note and bringing it to his nose to sniff, Azriel’s eyelids drooped at the more concentrated scent of Michael before he pulled away and opened it. The note simply stated _“Ms. Venable’s office at 9:00 A.M.”_

Arching a brow, Azriel wondered if he was actually going to be able to discuss diplomatic relations and treaties with Michael today or not. Glancing at the time on a small wind up clock on his night stand, Azriel sighed softly, figuring it was seven in the morning now, so he had two hours to get ready for the meeting. At least he didn’t have to worry about being bored anymore. Michael had taken all of that away, and then some.

### 

Michael scowled at Mr. Gallant, walking around his bound and whipped form. “I’ve never been to your room,” He murmured, enjoying this game a bit too much.

The night before, after Azriel had fallen back asleep, Michael had decided to play a trick on Mr. Gallant. It was all too easy to manipulate an imaginary gollum to fuck the man into oblivion and then get him in trouble with his grandmother. In the early hours of the morning, Michael had finally allowed himself to rest more, curled up with Azriel in his arms. The Elf looked so peaceful in sleep, without the cares of the world on his shoulders, the ever present hunger that bogged him down, or the need to serve his sire or deal with his responsibilities. Michael had no idea just how old Azriel was, but from his limited information about Dark Elves, he definitely understood that the male must be centuries old. Perhaps he was older than a thousand years. 

None of that mattered to Michael. Age differences had always been interesting in his case, being barely eleven full years old, and yet having the body and mind of a thirty year old human. He had watched Azriel sleep for some time, before he had fallen back asleep for a while.

Now, he was assisting in the interrogation of one Mr. Gallant, and he wasn’t sure if he was amused or irritated with the other man. The attraction the human blonde hair stylist felt for him was blatantly obvious and almost made him sick to his stomach. 

“Right, and that wasn’t you in the rubber suit giving it to me,” Gallant said, a playful smirk on his face.

Michael felt like doing an eye roll but settled for getting into the other man’s personal space, murmuring silkily and mockingly, “Let me be as clear as I know how to be. I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on Earth, and you almost are.” Giving the stylist a once over, making sure to be extra seductive and cold, Michael went in for the kill, adding, “It’s not because you aren’t physically attractive. It’s your neediness. Your desperation to be seen and loved. The hole that you need filled isn’t in your face or your ass. It’s in your heart.”

The look of hurt and shock plastered all over Gallant’s face was well worth his effort to tear him down. Now, to see if he really had it in him to be a fighter. Azriel had mentioned that he was hiding his true self behind a shallow front. Let’s see if the Elf was astute as Michael figured he was. Withdrawing from the other man, Michael stated sharply, “You’re pathetic. I can see why your grandmother is disgusted by you.”

“You don’t know anything about my Nana,” Gallant bravely protested, giving in to rage and giving Michael an admirable glower. 

Michael circled him, much like a predator surrounding a prey, gauging weaknesses and vulnerabilities. He continued to put verbal poison into the air, allowing it to smother Mr. Gallant’s faith in his grandmother. With the proper motivation achieved, Michael soon left the other male, releasing him from his binds.

### 

At nine a.m. sharp, Azriel was at Ms. Venable’s office door, waiting for Michael to show up. Apparently there had been some sort of punishment gone wrong when it came to the two lovebirds Emily and Tim. The both of them had been caught just after having sex by Ms. Mead and Mary. Azriel wasn’t sure what to think. The ‘no unauthorized copulation’ rule sucked, but he could understand why Ms. Venable might want to go through with such a rule. Out here, in the wilderness, with the outside world a horrid existence, procreation wasn’t necessarily a good thing to have in a place with little to no resources available. Children could starve, and Azriel seriously doubted that anyone thought to save some birth control during the bombings. 

Humans also often contracted sexually transmitted diseases, and it was just safer to abstain for the time being, even if the two youths had never had sex before meeting eachother. It was none of his business regardless, if only for the fact that their indiscretion had led to a botched punishment attempt that left Ms. Mead wounded, and Max with a concussion. Michael was currently seeing to them both to check on how they were fairing. Michael had ceased Tim and Emily's sentence, much to Ms. Venable’s ire, but oh well. 

Azriel waited, having a few folded scrolls in his arms. He arched a brow as Michael finally showed up, looking both amused and smug about something. He reached over and brushed Azriel’s lower back, guiding him into the office with a gesture of his other hand. Azriel flushed and tried to think of anything other than the night before. Of just how good those hands had felt on his face, hands, and hair. His scent was just as mouth watering as before, though Azriel was still quite sated from his feeding session. 

Sitting down, this time at Michael’s desk, he put out the various scrolls for the Antichrist to take up, hoping to get somewhere in the legal and business part of his mission sooner rather than later. Michael closed the doors to the office and sauntered over to sit in front of him on the other side of the desk, his hands resting on either side of the wooden surface. 

“Before we get into negotiations and legalities that might take the remainder of the morning to discuss, I would like to ask something personal,” Michael said softly, looking over his companion carefully. Azriel looked well rested, and even a bit more at ease in his presence. The hunger that he had seen so naked over the fey’s face was almost completely absent. Azriel looked healthy, sated, and alert.

Michael was pleased.

Whether or not last night had been planned, the both of them had needed it desperately. Perhaps Azriel more than himself, but it was good to see that release both relaxed and energized his companion much like himself. Most human males didn’t feel that way, just relaxed, hardly no energy gleaned from their companions. Warlocks were perhaps different and it seemed that Dark Elves were also. 

Azriel nodded and folded his hands in front of him, ever the relaxed but vigilant soldier. “Fire away, Michael.”

Michael genuinely smiled at the use of his first name. Apparently last night also had not scared the other male off. Good. “I trust you have had a good night sleep and a good morning?”

Azriel nodded, mirroring Michael’s expression. “Indeed. Slept better than I had in over four centuries. So thank you for that. As for this morning, thank you for the gift. I was largely left alone for the most part, as I did not leave my room until the humans had dispersed from their meal.”

“No Ms. Vanderbilt interactions, I take it?” Michael assumed, narrowing his eyes when Azriel didn’t respond for a long moment.

“She came by to apologize for her actions through the door. I didn’t open it, thinking that if I did she’d opt to barge into my rooms. But, I did answer her to let her know that her apology was accepted. I had briefly thought of just leaving her hanging, but Ms. Coco seems the type to be like a bloodhound when she wants a bone. She’d never give me a moment’s peace until I gave her reason to willingly leave,” Azriel admitted. He then sighed, whispering, “If she comes near me again, I’ll destroy her.”

“Good.” Michael nodded slowly in understanding. “If you get to her before I do. No one touches what is mine.”

Flushing awkwardly at the possessive and protective behavior the Antichrist was showing, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased. Yes, he was used to protecting himself against anything. But, in this, Azriel didn’t mind having a protector to help him fight his battles. It was kind of nice.

And one couldn’t go wrong with a protector as powerful as the son of Satan.

“Now, if you are willing, we can get started on paperwork,” Michael suggested, making Azriel breathe out a sigh of relief.

Finally, they were getting to what he had come here for. Or at least a big portion of it.

### 

“Your sire is very intelligent a person,” Michael complimented, running his eyes over the various legal documents in front of him. “And I will get two factions of Elven warriors of my choosing to guard the gates between both of our worlds at each portal if I send a few thousand damned souls to work as slaves in the underground cities, correct?” He quested, rubbing his chin idly.

“Yes. Unless you want more factions. We don’t want to seem like we are trying to invade on your world. It’s yours, and we want no part of it except the souls. Human or demon, it doesn’t matter. My sire doesn’t need animal souls,” Azriel affirmed, watching the Antichrist carefully. “He doesn’t like to use slaves but that’s the only way he can get them to work so well for him. A lazy soul is simply destroyed.”

“I like that mentality. My father might not enjoy giving up souls, but I am sure he will see the benefit if he wants influence in your world. I will discuss this in detail with him tonight after the humans retire to bed,” Michael stated, chewing on his lower lip in thought. This was way more complicated than he liked, but it was also fascinating.

Azriel’s sire was definitely a shrewd and ruthless individual, ruling the whole world of Nirsa with an iron fist, unchallenged. Michael went on, “And I can choose where each portal is?”

“Yes, but we would prefer if it was near or on an existing portal location. Building those things are a pain in the ass,” Azriel deadpanned, causing Michael to snort in understanding. “I will also report back to my sire and ask him about your additions when it comes to have more magic users as protectors, not just warriors.”

“I am always a fan of being prepared for any remaining magic wielder here to climb out of the soil like cockroaches. I believe I have destroyed the ones that were against me before the Armageddon, but one can’t always be certain,” Michael commented, making Azriel nod curtly.

“Now that we are on the subject of magic wielding, I am not sure how vast your senses go, but were you aware that there are two other magic wielders that are in this Outpost?” At Michael’s narrowed look, Azriel added quickly, “My contact in the other realm told me that there were three wielders, and I sensed all three once I stepped foot onto the premises. I am sure you are already acquainted with Ms. Dinah Stevens.”

Michael nodded, intrigued. “And the other two that you sense?”

“Mallory and Ms. Coco,” Azriel replied, watching the Antichrist very carefully.

At first, all Michael did was slowly smirk, but then he leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes. Keeping quiet, knowing all too well what one looked like when reaching out with their magic and senses, Azriel waited patiently. “So two of them survived,” Michael said after a few minutes.

“Their magic is locked behind some sort of warding spell. I am not sure why. If you want I can covertly check them,” Azriel offered softly.

“No, that’s not needed. But, thank you for the offer,” Michael said, opening his eyes and looking back over at the fey in front of him. “If they eventually become threats to me, I’ll destroy them.”

“Understood,” Azriel affirmed. 

“Thank you for telling me about them.” It was troubling that they had been here this whole time under his nose, and him not know about it. However, it was very clever, hiding the two witches in plain sight. Michael had to hand it to Cordelia, coming up with this plan, probably mostly on her own. He would have to be careful in not pressing Coco and Mallory too much. 

It would be an annoyance if they broke the seals to their powers before he wanted them to.

If he wanted them to.

Michael stood and stretched his legs before coming around to sit on the table near Azriel, propping a lean but muscular leg up, foot braced on the chair in front of him. The fey looked up at him curiously, but said nothing. The human said softly, “Enough of legal shit for now. Tell me about yourself.”

Azriel blinked. Okay, that was something he wasn’t expecting, but perhaps he should have, considering how intimate the two of them had become in such a short amount of time. “There’s not much to tell. My life would probably be boring compared to yours.”

“Try me,” Michael pressed, reaching down to fold his hands on his propped up knee.

Azriel swallowed carefully, noting that though Michael smelled a bit more aroused than he had been before, it wasn’t overpowering. Not like last night. So, the fey started a bit of history, his voice soft and reminiscent, “I was human before my sire found me nearly five thousand years ago. I was destitute, poor, and a slave to an unyielding abusive master. He saw something in me to this day I am not sure of. The king bought me off of my master and in time, when I was settled into my new duties serving him, he turned me.

“I have served under him ever since, going through warrior training - which was brutal, and eventually becoming one of his fiercest subjects and a Dragon Elf to boot. Out of all of his countless slaves, I was the only one who was able to buy my freedom and become a knight in his majesty’s army. I guess that makes me an enigma of sorts,” Azriel admitted with a small smile. “He still has my soul hidden from me, but it doesn’t matter. I will never betray him, even if he did give it back to me. I owe him too much.”

Michael nodded slowly, feeling almost a bit jealous of the King of the Elves. To have a person as loyal as Azriel serving him, that must be a definite rare treat. Still, Michael was curious about something. “If you were a formal slave, slavery in of itself doesn’t bother you?”

Azriel thought for a long moment before replying honestly, “I hate it. It does bother me, but I am just one person. My sire understands my views, and he tries to treat his slaves better than anyone else. It's the best I can do.”

“Interesting,” Michael purred softly, figuring that the more he found out about this Elf, the more questions he had arise. More puzzles to solve. 

Azriel’s eyes softened as he noted Michael look away from him for a bit, as if listening to what was going on in the rest of the shelter. The fey took the opportunity to be bold, reaching up to curiously touch Michael’s propped up boot leg. The leather was so shiny, it looked freshly polished. His hand wandered up it’s sleek girth until he reached Michael’s knee. By the time his hand wandered up to caress the man’s thigh, Michael had turned his attention back to Azriel, his eyes amused, but heated. 

“My dear Azriel, are you trying to distract me?” He said with a sly and velvety voice.

Azriel flushed but moved a bit closer so that his hand could reach a sensitive inner portion of Michael’s thigh. “Perhaps. Is it working?”

Michael regarded Azriel for a long moment and let the fey touch him intimately, but eventually stilled his hand with one of his own when it got too close to his cock. His cock was thoroughly interested, being half hard, and as much as he would like to allow Azriel to play with him to his heart’s content, there was another interview coming up shortly. 

“You are playing with fire, Azzy,” Michael warned, rubbing Azriel’s fingers soothingly, taking the hand up and kissing the knuckles. 

“Haven’t you noticed? Dark Elves love warmth, but Dragon Elves crave it. You can’t blame me for being bold,” Azriel murmured, shivering as Michael’s teeth nipped at his fingertips. 

“No, I can’t. But, as much as I would love to continue our excursion, I have another interview shortly,” Michael said, apologetically tugging the other man up against him for a kiss, his body leaning down awkwardly.

Azriel melted under his lips, and Michael found himself stoking the flames a bit too much as well. Pulling away reluctantly, the Antichrist offered, “After I speak with my father, I will send for you. Will you come?”

 _As if I even have a choice,_ Azriel thought. Aloud he murmured, “Of course.”

“Good.” Michael pecked Azriel on the lips again before he got up to open the door.


	4. Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *fans self* Ok, this chapter is a bit kinky. Or lots of kinky. Enjoy to your hearts content. Some more developments also, but for the most part, we got ourselves some plain and simple lusting and bloodplay.
> 
> As always, special thanks to my buddies on Discord. Your ideas GIVE ME STRENGTH!

The next few hours were exhausting but not terribly bad, in Michael's opinion. Now that he knew about Ms. Coco and Mallory, it was hard to keep from crushing them under his boot when he interviewed them. However, if perhaps he could sway them to his gain then it would be worth the effort in not killing them just yet. 

He was civil and courteous, and only pressed them with care, not wanting to push the girls too far. After Azriel had told him about the girls, he could now sense their hidden and blocked magic. Mallory had the most within her but Michael did not let himself relax when near Coco regardless. The woman he wanted to crush with his bare hands, but that would be a bit counterproductive to his plans for now. 

If he couldn't sway the girls, then they would die, painfully. Coco he might kill just out of principle, her threatening Azriel like she had the night before, not just possibly being a witch from Cordelia's coven or being so annoyingly shallow. He felt strangely overprotective towards the fey. His possessive nature, Michael could understand. But, Michael hadn't felt so protective over someone since Ms. Mead came into his life. 

It was strange that he was fastly becoming addicted to the Dark Elf. If he wasn't careful, he'd become way too involved. But, even if that were so, Michael figured that perhaps there were worse things that could happen. 

As for Mallory, he could sense her power now and though nothing seemed to be remarkable about her aside from her loyalty to Coco, Michael wasn't a fool. There was something about her that was familiar, and though he couldn't put his finger on what she reminded him of, he found himself a bit drawn to her. Her aura was too bright for him and the closer he interacted with her, the more he couldn't hate her. Dislike her, even want to kill her yes, but hate her, no.

He wondered if Azriel had any thought on this, being a dark creature himself. Mallory simply made him feel sick. Perhaps her magic was polar opposites to his, which would explain the forbidden element there. He was drawn to her though he couldn't be in her presence for long without wanting to hurl into the nearest bucket. 

There was no attraction physically towards the grey, and she seemed wary, even afraid of him. Perhaps that was a good thing. 

His interviews with Emily and after, Tim, he was able to play with their emotions a bit. Both seemed entirely too young, with strong, if sadly hormone driven wills. Both were in love and couldn't think much else outside of their need for one another. It was sickening as much as it was sacrinely sweet. He had saved them from death for now. It all depended on how they reacted later on whether or not they would be worth keeping alive. 

When he took a break until after the humans ate their meager dinner, Michael was aching to punch something. Hard. Or at least kill something. It wasn't that he wasn't having fun playing with these people. He just was feeling strangely irritable and exhausted and not because he had fed Azriel the night before. His blood replenished itself quickly depending on how much he fed from various resources. 

Michael still had Andre, Ms. Stevens and the rest of the greys and guards to interview the next morning. At least he wouldn't have to interact with Gallant or his mother either until tomorrow. Narrowing his eyes, he suddenly got a wicked idea. 

Perhaps it was time to see just how vicious Gallant could be. 

Briefly wondering how Azriel's day had fared, Michael refrained from going to see the fey. He wasn't clingy like he had been years ago. And he knew the fey valued his alone time. It still didn't quell his desire to see him. Tonight he'd have plenty of time to see Azriel and further their relationship, he reasoned to himself. 

It was best to stay away from the desirable fey, for now.

### 

Azriel finished reading the book in front of him that dealt with high level magic spells. He closed it with a soft smile. As intriguing as Earthen magic wielders were, their theory and spellwork lacked finesse. Each spell was musical he supposed if they were said properly, but from what he could tell from incantational spell building, humans botched the fluid language up. 

He, himself like all young Dragon Elves had gone through several years of spellcasting training. As a warrior, it wasn't mandatory, but in order to get high up in the hierarchy of the infantry he had to know how to wield some magic. It just so happened that Azriel had an affinity for snow and ice. He could manipulate the atmosphere to the point it blanketed him in a Halo of silver and white ethereal cold light. 

He loved winter. The cold made him feel safe and comfortably numb. But as a Dragon Elf, he also yearned and craved warmth. Heat, fire felt so good in his blood and on his skin. Azriel would never tire of it's pull, regardless if winter is where he thrived. Perhaps that was one of the reasons why getting involved with Michael was dangerous. 

Everything about the human hybrid was searingly hot. And it was getting more difficult not to want to give everything to the Antichrist, just so he could bask in the fire the man permeated. He'd given his report earlier, feeling relieved when his sire congratulated him on the proceedings of the alliance. Azriel had only given information relevant to the mission, and nothing more. His sire was pleased.

Azriel's orders hadn't deviated, though the Oracle had warned him to be extra vigilant about the two light bearing witches, stating that if not swayed, they would need to be eliminated. 

As for his relationship with Michael, the Oracle had merely told him to proceed, but with caution. 

Whether or not his sire was interested in his growing emotional and physical attachment to the Antichrist, he didn't comment or voice anything about it to Azriel. In the fey's book, no comment meant he approved. Or he didn't care.

Both good signs.

Huffing a soft sigh as his mind drifted yet again to the enigma that was Michael, he figured this was getting out of hand. Azriel had always prided himself in being highly independent with hardly anyone or anything to get close to him. Outside of animals, it took people a long time to get inside his heart. Trust was a big thing for Azriel and more often than not those closest to him had to live with the fact that he probably would never confide in them. 

The Oracle and his sire had his loyalty and his soul, but not his heart. 

So, this feeling of falling under Michael's spell was difficult to deal with. 

But, it was pointless to keep from it. The more he tried to keep his heart safe from Michael, the more it ached to be held in his grasp. Idly picking up the small bat plushie Michael had gifted him that morning, he gave into sentiment just a bit and nuzzled it's soft outer coat. Breathing in Michael's scent, Azriel briefly wondered if he was going to be able to leave the Antichrist's side after his mission concluded.

The thought had a lone black tear of sadness escape one of his eyes and he forced melancholy thoughts from his mind. 

This by far was one of the tamest, cleanest missions he'd had. But it also might turn out to be the most difficult.

### 

“The Dark Elves...they are shrewd, father, and ruthless. I'm sure you would be impressed. The negotiations are going well but I'm concerned.” Michael was naked, bleeding from slashes in his arms, creating a ritual of blood and candles surrounding his prone form. “There are two of our enemies that survived and could be a distraction we cannot afford. There might be others. I need your guidance. Should I crush their bones into dust with their powers blocked and risk the possibility of others rising in their place? Or must I come up with a different way to handle them if they aren't swayed to join us?”

Shivering in the center of an inverted pentagram made of his spilled blood, Michael listened for a long moment. 

Interactions with his father often were brief but informative. Once he had learned how to decipher Satan's messages, Michael had only had to speak with him on a rare basis. It used a lot of energy and sacrifice to open so many portals of hell at once just to send messages back and forth. 

“I understand, father,” Michael murmured before continuing, “I'll deal with them accordingly. The alliance with the Dark Elves is too valuable to us and I will not let the witches fuck it up. I will also let Azriel know your words about the souls.”

He was silent for a minute, flashes of images running through his mind, letting him see parts of a potential future. “So you approve of my choice….” His voice was soft and awed, a slow smirk splitting his lips. 

Michael purred softly, “So be it. Thank you.” Rubbing his skin with blood, enjoying the feel of sin drenching his body, the Antichrist formed a dozen lethal snakes from the crimson streaks at his knees. “ _Ave Satanas_.” Michael felt his true nature flex it's wings and he grinned, feeling so deliciously wicked.

### 

Azriel was coming back upstairs from returning his book, managing to avoid the others pretty well, when he smelled it. Michael's blood, and a lot of it. Growing concerned, the elf mentally warred with himself on going to check on the Antichrist, knowing the man was undoubtedly busy. But, the blood was thick, too much to be considered coming from a small cut. It was as if Michael had several pints of blood spilled everywhere in the vicinity of his rooms.

Finally giving in to his concern, the fey headed to Michael's rooms on silent feet. After there was no answer from his knocks at Michael's door, Azriel scowled, looking around quickly before twisting the door knob. From what his senses were telling him, Azriel could tell that Michael was injured, but not panicked. In fact, as soon as he went into the human hybrid's room, he could smell a sense of happiness. Or perhaps contentment. 

Michael's room was sparsely decorated like everyone else's from Azriel's quick perusal. He swallowed carefully when he spotted that the door to the bathroom was open, emitting steam and the sound of running water. Blood was highly concentrated there and Azriel felt his mouth water, despite still being sated from the night before. 

Concern fading into curiosity, Azriel advanced to the open door, coming to a stop just outside of it. Forcing himself to breathe properly, Azriel finally found his voice. “Michael, it's me. Are you well? I smelled so much blood and was concerned.”

Michael hissed slightly as his wounds began to heal under the heat of the shower spray. It wouldn't be long before his wounds were completely healed, but he figured Azriel hadn't known that. With a small smirk, feeling a bit playful, Michael said with mock hesitance, “I'm sorry - I have to use a lot of blood in order to talk….to talk with my father. So that's what you are smelling.”

“Fuck, you’re still bleeding,” Azriel murmured, coming inside the bathroom, suddenly finding himself at the entrance to the glass enclosed shower. His hands reached out on their own accord to take up one of Michael's arms to inspect a wound. 

The slashes mirrored the ones from his dreams. It wasn't until he was pressed up against one of the glass walls inside of the shower, pinned by one very wet and naked amorous Michael that he realized he'd been played. Before he could even say anything or protest, Michael's lips were on his, capturing them in a heated fiery embrace. Azriel let out a moan, melting under Michael's attentions. Michael's tongue flicked against his, dominating the fey to the point he forgot that he was getting his clothes drenched in the process. 

After thoroughly kissing the fey senseless, Michael pulled away to look smugly at Azriel, taking in his flushed and blissed out appearance. Azriel's slitted pupils had dilated and his breath came out in ragged gasps. Azriel blinked a few times dazedly before he suddenly glowered. 

“Fucking hell, Michael! I thought you were seriously hurt!” Azriel stated with a scowl, trying hard to be irritated and not distracted by Michael's deliciously wet and naked body caging him in. 

Michael murmured silkily, “If I was a normal human, then yes, there would be cause for you to be alarmed. But I am not normal.” He then relaxed and offered one of his arms to show Azriel, the skin almost completely healed now. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“You lost a lot of blood,” Azriel insisted, gently running his fingers over Michael's faded wound. “Too much blood.”

Michael's eyes softened and he reached up to tilt Azriel's chin up. Looking the fey in the eyes he said softly, “It'll be replenished shortly. Like you, I have other ways to sustain myself. I am not limited to human resources. The end result was worth the sacrifice.”

Azriel looked into his eyes, swallowing carefully before he reached up to cup Michael's face. “You are really ok?” It seemed so strange that not even a day ago Azriel couldn't have cared less about seeing the Antichrist dead… and now the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. 

Was he falling so low just because the other man had given him blood? It was so puzzling to Azriel. Love at first sight was a fantasy only young Elflings dreamed about. Very rare did this sort of thing happen in real life. And Azriel wasn't a fool. He knew for a fact that Michael could be a vicious adversary should the man turn on him. But, Azriel couldn't help these powerful strange feelings when he was around Michael. 

Michael closed his eyes and nuzzled Azriel's hands, breathing them in. It felt so strange to be cared for. The fey in front of him continued to surprise him. Leaning in to capture Azriel's lips in response, he let himself be surrounded by the fey's cool skin and taste. Pulling away to nip at Azriel's lower lip he smirked slightly when the fey let out a breathless whimper. 

“Does that answer your question?” Michael purred against the Elf's lips. 

Azriel ran his hands over the plains of Michael's face, and delved into his silky drenched dark ginger locks before he let out a heated growl, tugging the human hybrid's face in for a fierce kiss. Michael couldn't help the moan that was ripped out of his throat at the act, his hands coming up to tug the fey to him, not caring if he was still garbed in wet clothes.

However, when Azriel started absently humping against his lower extremities, the clothing barred him annoyingly from touching him. Michael growled lowly and promptly blinked Azriel's clothes completely off, sending them into a nearby hamper with a wet splat. Azriel's answering keen was worth the effort. 

Skin against skin, the sweetest slide of cascading water making their movements create exquisite friction. Azriel was burning up, going head first into the intoxication that was Michael, the feel of sensual darkness swirling around them both. He grew desperate in spite of himself, hopping up to wrap his lithe legs around Michael's hips. The act caused Michael's breath to hitch, his teeth biting down on Azriel's lower lip, this time drawing blood. 

Michael slammed Azriel against the glass wall so hard it creaked under their weight. Bracing them both with one hand under one of Azriel's thighs, Michael reached between them with his free hand and took up both of their cocks, rubbing them both with a vice like grip. The feel of their sensitive skin rubbing against each other had shocks and sparks bolting through Azriel's body, leaving him practically begging for more. 

Unable to stop from arching his hips frantically to meet Michael's brutal pace, the white haired fey concentrated on tasting every place he could reach. Michael moaned and buried his face into Azriel's neck, feeling desire course through him so intensely that he fucking roared as he came, the candles in the whole Outpost going out.

Azriel bucked against him a few times, not being able to handle Michael's tight grip much longer and came with a shout so loud, it shook the room and shattered the glass walls around them. 

Michael froze all pieces of glass before they could harm Azriel and with ease put them back together again, dazed as he was. At least Azriel was still conscious this time around. Michael gasped for breath, his heart racing like mad, Azriel's mirroring his almost down to the beat. Azriel rasped out a panting moan as Michael started rubbing their cocks together again, this time tenderly and less rough. Azriel tugged up Michael's face from his neck and kissed him soundly. 

The edge had been taken off, but Michael was far from through with Azriel. 

Azriel shuddered as Michael suddenly flashed them both on to his bed, not caring one bit that their skin was still damp from the shower. Absently Michael released their cocks so he could kiss, bite, and suckle on every piece of skin he could find writhing underneath him. Azriel was drunk on lust, his hands gripping Michael's back and shoulders as he was basically devoured. It was like he couldn't get enough of Michael, and the dark ginger haired man couldn't get enough of him. 

Feeling Azriel's cool hands on his skin felt like the sweetest torture and Michael buried his face into the fey's chest to lick and nip his skin. Finding Azriel's pierced nipples were a delight, especially how much the fey thrashed underneath him when he tasted and played with them. Plucking the piercings carefully with his fingers, he whispered against Azriel's damp skin, “Don't be scared to scream for me, Azzy. No one in the Outpost can hear us. I made sure of it. So if you want to give in to your desire, don't hesitate to let go.”

Azriel responded with a reverberating growl, arching his hips up and clenching his eyes shut. Thrashing around so hard, he almost dislodged Michael, and the Antichrist let out a soft, amused chuckle before he went back to tormenting his prey. Trailing kisses and nips down Azriel's sensitive pale skin, the fey grew more desperate and wild, soft pleas being ripped out of his throat with each spark of desire. And when Michael dipped his tongue in Azriel's navel, the fey shouted Michael's name.

“Michael - please… _please_!” Azriel sobbed, oversensitive and so wild in the hot haze of lust he could do nothing but plead, beg, and hold on for dear life. “I can't - I can't take much more!”

Michael finally kissed right below Azriel's navel, right above where the fey needed his touch. He raised his head to capture Azriel's desperate and needy gaze, for once not minding being craved and wanted. He whispered huskily, “You can. And you _shall_ , my darling.”

And with that he dipped his head sensually, taking the tip of Azriel's dripping cock into his mouth.

### 

A haze of lust, pleasure so great it was almost painful, too much but not enough washed over Azriel, breaking down his mental shields like a hurricane. He didn't know if he screamed, but his voice was hoarse, throat raw as Michael continued to pleasure him. Panting so much he could barely get in any air, even his night vision was flickering in and out. He had clawed and shredded Michael's sheets, not being able to stay still or grab purchase. 

His skin was on fire, electricity licking over it and through his veins, making him feel like he was nothing but a never ending tempest played and directed by Michael. The tattoo wings on his back were on the brink of manifesting into his other form, fangs fully drawn and eyes electric blue. The fey convulsed as Michael took him deeper into his sinful cavernous mouth. 

Michael reveled in the taste of Azriel, his cock leaking delightfully with cool, wet drips. Though he'd done this only a few times, not interested much at all in this sort of thing, for some reason he wanted Azriel to come completely undone under him. He'd never wanted to please someone so much in this intimate and carnal way before. It was a heady feeling. With each hoarse moan or ragged gasp that Azriel breathed out, Michael wanted more. He craved it. 

Almost to the point of obsession. And it helped that Azriel tasted so good on his tongue. The few male humans and demons he'd tasted like this had been bitter, almost foul. But, Azriel tasted like concentrated cinnamon, cool yet burning with each lick. Azriel's cock was similar in length to his own, but the fey had a lack of pubic hair of any kind. His skin was so soft here, and his balls were even more silken. Like velvet. 

Michael liked it. Liked it a lot. 

He cupped and rolled the soft balls, firmly holding Azriel down by will if not by hand. The fey's hips bucked uselessly every so often and Michael was determined to consume everything that the other male had to offer. After he found the sensitive perineum behind Azriel's sac he growled softly in amusement. The fey had a very naughty but sexy piercing. 

Pulling off of Azriel's cock for a moment, Michael lifted and spread the fey's thighs more so he could look. Azriel mewled and caught his gaze, flushing scarlet when Michael flashed him a smug and delighted grin. Azriel buried his face in his trembling hands, feeling way too emotionally wrecked to deal with embarrassment right now. 

“Shhhh, it's alright, Azzy. Don't hide your face from me. There's nothing to be ashamed of,” Michael murmured softly, reaching up to pull Azriel's hands away, kissing his blushing face. “I don't know much about Dark Elves, but what I do know is that they are very sensual creatures. You may not feed off of lust, but you crave it. Show me your lust and desires. Let me help you soar. I want to see all of you, body and mind.”

“I- I'm not ready… mind wise,” Azriel sniffed, trying to keep what was left of his emotions at bay. “Physically…..ok.”

Michael kissed a few black tears cascading down Azriel's face and whispered, “Ok.” He would have to settle for this for now. He knew Azriel's mind was fragile right now, stimulus blowing all of his defenses away, but he was content to wait a little longer for the fey's thoughts. 

Leaning down to kiss Azriel's lips, Michael ran his hands down the fey's body, and if the human hybrid was more tender than before, then it only benefitted them both. When he went down on Azriel again, this time not stopping, the fey came apart, his beautiful black dragon wings manifesting underneath him.

Coming deep down Michael's throat, his essence searing an ice trail in the process, Azriel sat up, arching his back as his wings flared out from his shoulder blades.

### 

Later, while Michael was holding the thoroughly sated Elf in his arms, running his hands over his hair, shoulders, and light trail of scales on his spine, Azriel asked softly, “Can I touch you?”

Michael would have come back with a sly response if not for the fact that he knew just how fragile Azriel was feeling. Though he didn't read his mind, he could smell the various emotions wafting potently from the fey's body. So, in response, Michael took up one of Azriel's hands where it had been delving into his dark ginger hair and tugged it down to his cock. 

Exploring Michael's cock languidly, Azriel gauged the human hybrid's scent and actions with each touch. Michael's cock was like his, but less sensitive near the base. The nest of pubic hair connected to a ginger thin happy trail was soft but wiry. Azriel found he didn't mind it. 

If anything, the hair added to the beauty of Michael. After coaxing a drop of hot precome from the Antichrist's tip, Azriel took the small bit of liquid up to his lips for a taste. The come was bitter and salty, but he liked it. Michael snorted in mirth when Azriel wrinkled his nose a bit at the smell, and then felt his breath hitch when the fey reached down to stroke him again. 

As Azriel pleasured him, Michael was able to look him over, taking in his nude features. Azriel was smaller than him in the sense that he was thinner, but still willowy, his hips flared almost androgynously. His cock was still half hard, and everywhere Michael had kissed or nipped, the pale skin was red or slightly bruised. Azriel's nipples and perineum were pierced and when his wings were not out in the open, were folded into tattoos on his back, bisected by a trail of sensitive black scales. Malfrin’s scaled tattoo graced Azriel’s forearm. Every now and then Michael would see a random dusky freckle or battle scar, but otherwise Azriel's body was smooth and soft. 

He hadn't had a chance to touch the fey's sensitive ears yet, but they were definitely on the list of places he wanted to explore. Letting out a soft moan as his thoughts were pleasantly interrupted by the quickening strokes of Azriel's hand, Michael leaned in for a kiss. Azriel flicked his tongue against Michael’s, tightening his fist at the tip of his cock, jacking off the son of Satan like it was something he did every day. How the fey could play him like a fiddle, Michael had no clue, but it was frighteningly incredible. Michael was so close to coming as Azriel broke their kiss, his breaths coming out in rasps.

He reached up and ran his fingers over Azriel’s hair, bringing pleasure to the fey but not enough to make him fully hard just yet. Azriel then stilled his hand, much to Michael’s surprise, but before he could say anything, the fey had reached up and made a long slit over his right breast, allowing black blood to well up and escape. 

Michael narrowed his eyes, suddenly understanding the gift when the fey tugged at him to lean down for a taste. Though this taste wouldn’t do a thing to his genetic makeup, Michael figured he could feast on Azriel’s blood as a snack, to replenish his blood taken earlier in the ritual. Michael leaned down and captured the strip of blood with this tongue, tasting the cool cinnamon taste. The smell of peppermint was potent here, but Azriel’s blood was like a spicy addition to those french toast breakfasts Ms. Mead used to make for him. 

Hungry for that taste, Michael started lapping up each drop of blood leaking from Azriel’s wound, letting out a desperate moan when the fey reached down to start jacking him off again. It felt so good, Michael couldn’t help but wrap his arms tightly around the Dragon Elf’s hips, holding on as if he couldn’t bare the thought of letting him go.

With his free hand, Azriel stroked Michael’s long dark ginger locks, enjoying the feel of his tongue on his skin, the smell of sex and blood thick in the air, and the pleasure of seeing Michael so undone. It wasn’t long before Michael’s hips started arching up to meet Ariel’s strokes and a few keening moans later, the Antichrist threw back his head and cried out his pleasure, coming all over the fey’s hand, his chest and stomach.

Azriel tugged the other male down for a gentle, understanding kiss, enjoying the taste of his own blood mixing with the flavor of Michael’s mouth. Feeling warm, and sated, Azriel stroked Michael for a few more minutes before the other man stilled his hand gently. When Azriel made to withdraw his hand, Michael firmly kept it still, as if wanting to feel his touch, but not anything more for now. 

“It feels good, when you touch me. You cool me down, calm the fire inside,” Michael murmured drowsily, idly leaning down to lick a few last drops of black blood from Azriel’s almost completely sealed wound. 

“You feel good to me too, but are opposite when it comes to calming me down,” Azriel said, his thumb smoothing a bit of still wet come over Michael’s sensitive tip, causing him to hitch a breath.

Letting out a soft moan, Michael rolled his hips again and let out a gush of more come. Azriel arched a brow, but otherwise said nothing. Instead, he tugged Michael up with his free hand to capture his now swollen lips in a tender kiss.

### 

After the both of them cleaned up and got ready for bed, Michael and Azriel discussed more business, though cuddled up in each other’s arms this time. Michael listened and stroked Azriel’s sensitive white hair as the fey told him about his sire’s acceptance to his terms in sending more magic wielders to supervise the portal gates. After he was finished speaking, Michael took up the conversation by relaying information about his father’s agreeing to release the souls into the Dark Elven King’s care. 

In the small hours of the morning, both fell silent and reflective, Azriel absently burrowing more into Michael’s heat, enjoying his own personal living and breathing electric blanket. Michael let out a huff in wry amusement, but allowed the cuddling. He’d never dealt much with post coital cuddling, his prior lovers when he did have them were of the sort that he didn’t stick around to deal with after giving in to release. Michael found he rather enjoyed it.

“How did your interviews go?” Azriel asked, twirling a lock of Michael’s hair with his finger, but not tugging on it just in case the Antichrist wasn’t a fan of hair pulling. He knew that the other man loved his hair touched, but that’s as far as it went for now.

Michael watched Azriel’s finger for a moment in reflection before he admitted, “Kind of dull really.”

At Azriel’s snicker, Michael flashed him a grin. “I am being serious, but I get the humor and irony.”

“Were you hoping for some evil genius or something to that nature?” Azriel assumed, freeing his finger and letting his hand wander over the expanse of the other man’s golden skin covered chest. 

“Mmmm. you got me,” Michael rumbled with a sigh. “I suppose it would have been more eventful if you hadn’t told me about the other witches. I could have pressed them and ended up getting more than I wanted when it came to power or malevolence. My father believes there is a way to dispose of them efficiently without dealing with witnesses or any of the enemy coven even realizing what is happening, should they still be alive.”

“Hmmmm, you have my attention,” Azriel responded, snorting when Michael laughed, his face looking so much younger in the act. “What? Am I amusing you?”

“Kind of, I guess,” Michael admitted, before he sobered and added, “Sometimes I forget where you come from. It’s not everyday I meet someone who might be just as ruthless as I am when it comes to survival and goals.”

“I know what you mean, though from a different perspective,” Azriel allowed, thinking of just how isolated he was in his own homeworld. “The perks of being unique.”

“I’d rather have one of you than the billions of souls trapped in hell or still alive on this earth. It’s a pity your soul is not your own to give,” Michael said carefully, taking up one of Azriel’s wandering hands to kiss the knuckles tenderly.

He watched Azriel’s reaction and was shocked when the fey grew pensive, mumbling, “If I had two I would give you one.”

That soft, small voice made Michael feel like a callous bastard. It was an ugly feeling - one he was used to, but not when it came to Azriel. With a soft sigh, Michael leaned in to kiss Azriel’s nose, causing the fey to wrinkle it comically. He whispered, “It’s ok, Azzy. I know you did what you had to do in order to survive. I am not meaning to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty. Nor am I trying to test your loyalty.”

Azriel didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, he was thankful and even flattered that Michael wanted him so completely that he wanted his soul as well. But, on the other hand, his soul was his sire’s property. The only way it could ever be his again is if his sire was killed, or the Elf king gave it back to him. And he wasn’t about to go asking for it after five thousand years without it.

“I just feel like I am drowning in you. The more I am around you, I can’t seem to stop wanting you,” Michael said, watching a pretty blush rise over the fey’s cheeks in response.

“You aren’t such a bad person to be around either,” Azriel commented dryly, making Michael snicker at the irony of that statement.

Crisis averted, Michael pulled Azriel more into his arms, burrowing his face into the other man’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent. Closing his eyes, Michael hoped that the next day would bring some more results, not just between them, but also with the others in the Outpost.

### 

The next morning, Azriel woke up with the worst epic bed head he’d had in quite a long while. That’s what he got for falling asleep with damp hair. Then again, he so did not regret the night before one bit. Especially considering he was still in the arms of the Antichrist. Feeling a bit content at just watching Michael sleep for a while, the fey took note that he looked so peaceful and young as he rested. Having another dreamless night for the both of them was nice, though Azriel wasn’t sure if there was a reason for the cessation of his visions. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Michael was here now, with him.

Michael’s eyelids eventually fluttered open sleepily, his eyes soft and almost adorable as he took in Azriel watching him. “Creeper,” Michael teased with a large yawn and stretch.

Azriel rolled his eyes but made no comment. Perhaps he was a bit of a creeper. He sure looked like one, the fey noted as he got out of bed and went to wash his face in the bathroom. His reflection stared back at him, and though he looked like he’d been fucked up-ways to sideways, the fey took one look at the mop of his hair and rumbled moodily. While he was attempting to get a few painful tangles out of his hair, Michael came into the bathroom to relieve himself, apparently due to having some mineral water the day before. 

The feeling that the both of them were like some domestic couple that had been together for ages was not lost on either one of them. After Michael washed his hands, he summoned the brush out of Azriel’s hands and offered to lend a hand. Azriel flushed a bit, feeling all kinds of weird that the Antichrist would want to do something so intimate. Then again, they had been all over eachother the night before, and he wasn’t sure if there was even a spot Michael hadn’t touched, bit, or kissed left, so he guessed this really wasn’t so strange after all.

Plopping himself down in a chair near the vanity, still butt-ass naked and feeling a bit off, his oddball mood soon turned more pleasant when Michael started gently brushing his hair. Being careful not to do much damage to the silken white strands, the Antichrist detangled Azriel’s hair like a pro, and eventually had the fey purring like a kitten under his hands. Letting out a soft pleased hiss when Michael lightly brushed a particularly sensitive patch of hair near one of his ears, Azriel felt like he was in the best heaven - or perhaps hell. 

Michael smirked smugly as he got the fey to relax bonelessly with just a few more brush strokes. “Where did you learn to do this?” Azriel mumbled drowsily, feeling his eyelids droop in ecstasy.

“When I started growing out my hair, it used to tangle up fierce like yours. I had one of my father’s succubi show me how to tame it,” Michael purred, leaning down to add with a seductive tone, “And how to make it obey my every command.”

Oh hell, that sure didn’t help Azriel’s half hard morning wood one bit. 

_You are so very dangerous, Michael, and I love it_ , Azriel thought. He must have been really loud in his thoughts, for Michael slowly smiled with smug amusement and gave him a kiss. 

Regrettably, that’s as far as it went. Michael had interviews to conduct still, and Azriel also needed to get dressed, even if he would rather run around naked all day. Once garbed in a sleek full silver trimmed black tunic with matching leggings from Malfrin’s pack, Azriel sighed softly when he was embraced from behind. Michael murmured, “This looks good on you. Almost so much I want to rip it from your skin.”

Flushing slightly, but pushing away his awkwardness, Azriel turned around in his embrace to give the Antichrist a onceover. “Same goes for you.” Michael was wearing black leather pants, sleek as silk long sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned a bit to reveal his throat and some clavicle. 

At Azriel’s heated look, Michael cupped his face and pulled him in for a slow, sensual kiss, making the fey’s ears and toes curl. “What are you doing to me, you temptor?” Michael asked absently as he pulled away from the Elf’s lips. 

Azriel swallowed and reached up to play with one of Michael’s undid buttons, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden. He wasn’t used to being wanted like this, needed like this. It was addictive, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d probably end up as desperate as someone like Gallant, who just couldn’t stop wanting it.

“You are _nothing_ like him. Don’t ever say that,” Michael ordered with a soft growl, tilting Azriel’s chin up to look him in the eye. “He’s a pathetic shallow individual who is also an idiot. You, my dear, are none of those things. Mr. Gallant might be useful, when properly manipulated, but other than that, he’s a perfect reason why the human gene pool needed more chlorine in it. Don’t ever compare yourself to the likes of him.”

How in the world could Michael know what to say to him in order for Azriel to feel better? Granted, the fey might not have the greatest self esteem when it come to physical attractiveness or even self awareness, but damn, Michael was laying on some thick charm. Smiling a bit, Azriel finally whispered, “My thoughts can’t be that loud right now.”

Michael snorted, understanding the topic diversion for what it was. He let it go, knowing that for someone so fierce and loyal to his sire, Azriel didn’t like being the center of praise. Or at least, he wasn’t used to it enough to know that he liked it. If everything went according to plan, perhaps Azriel would have a chance to enjoy it, maybe even crave it. With that thought in mind, Michael released the fey and went to tug on a matching black leather jacket, saying softly, “Your thoughts are loud when it comes to someone who is psychically well endowed.”

When Azriel thought something else in response, Michael arched a brow at him, though pleased. “Now who’s the flatterer?”

“Oh shut up and get going before we get into a big ass argument about who has the worst self image,” Azriel grumbled, eliciting a startled laugh from the Antichrist. 

“So bossy and all sassy, it’s cute,” Michael purred, taking up a red scarf and leaning in for a quick kiss from Azriel before he finally left, mood much improved from the day before.

Azriel watched him go with a soft sigh, wondering how in the hell it had come to this. It didn’t matter that being in Michael’s presence made him feel so at ease now, where before he had been nervous, uneasy and almost distressed. He couldn’t seem to keep himself from feeling like he had known the Antichrist for all his life - and if not that, for several decades. And the fact that Michael allowed him to sass him, even if it was just to humor him for a bit and make his stay here less boring, Azriel didn’t know what to think. He knew he should be wary and careful around the other man, especially since the son of Satan had an unlimited powerhouse of evil and dark energy, but it was like all of his reservations and defenses had flown out the window in the span of the short time he’d been in contact with Michael.

It was beginning to freak Azriel out.

The Oracle and his sire hadn’t given him any advice when it came to this, besides for Azriel to proceed with caution, so the fey felt so completely out of his game.

Shaking himself out of his small mental crisis, Azriel headed out of Michael’s room.

### 

After checking in on his pet snake, who was curled up on his pillow, much bigger than she had been the day before, Azriel headed downstairs for another book, the library thankfully deserted, it being extremely early still. He was almost at the last of the books he hadn’t read yet, and the fey was wondering if he would need to ask Michael for a book - if the Antichrist had anything of that sort lying around. Considering the dark ginger haired man had been able to manifest a bat plushie for him, perhaps he would be able to do the same when it came to books. 

Azriel was in the process of picking out a book, when his ears picked up the sounds of someone being murdered upstairs. There were no screams, only sounds of a vicious stabbing, and he arched a brow, wondering who in the world was thinking it was a damned good idea to go hacking at another person in this dismal place so early in the morning. He almost wondered if it was Ms. Coco being viciously murdered, and wouldn’t have been surprised in all honesty, but then he heard Michael speaking softly with someone, and then an answering voice came out that was definitely male.

Mr. Gallant.

Even more intrigued, Azriel took up his book and made his way up the stairs, just in time to see Michael usher a bloodied, but alive Mr. Gallant out of Ms. Evie’s room. That’s where the concentration of blood started permeating from, it’s perfume tantalizing Azriel’s senses. Ah, so the matriarch had been eliminated. Feeling nothing but relief that he wouldn’t have to hear her annoying prattle about her various past lunch or dinner parties, Azriel watched them head into Michael’s office. As Michael was closing the door, he caught Azriel’s eye from across the way and offered him a playful, evil smirk that sent fire racing through him in all the right places.

Damn.

Making his way towards his room, he nearly ran into Ms. Stevens, who looked him over with calculated malice. “Excuse me, Mr. Davari.”

“Of course, Ms. Stevens,” Always one to be polite, the fey felt his warrior training come into play. He let her slip past him, his head slightly bowed in respect for another dark creature. Before the woman left the area entirely, she turned and looked at him, her gaze shrewd, but less defensive.

“I really hope you know who you are dealing with, Mr. Davari,” She whispered softly, sizing him up like he was a potential adversary.

“Indeed I do, Ms. Stevens. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to me. We both have our goals to achieve here. You want to survive, and I am just following orders. I am not here to interfere with any of Mr. Langdon’s plans, and I will assist him only if he wishes. Therefore, I should not be a threat to you,” Azriel explained carefully, watching the woman’s expressions as she digested what he had told her.

When Ms. Stevens was silent for another moment, Azriel added, “From one dark creature to another, I feel that we should not be adversaries at this time. As long as you do not attempt to get in the way of Mr. Langdon’s plans or my purpose here, then you should have a potential ally in your midst.”

“Just how powerful of an ally would that be, should I decide to do as you say?” Ms. Stevens asked, advancing back towards him with sure, confident steps. He watched the purple dressed lady with a keen, knowing look.

“Perhaps not as powerful as someone like what you are thinking, but I do have connections. I have my own methods of obtaining what I want. If Michael decides that you are lacking in his Sanctuary, perhaps I might be inclined to give you another way out of here that doesn’t involve senseless death. We could use someone like you in our world,” Azriel said with a smile.

“And what kind of world is that?” Ms. Stevens asked, a slow smirk spreading over her lips.

Now to go in for the kill. Azriel purred softly with a flash of fang, “A world of many opportunities, Ms. Stevens.”


	5. Frozen and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone crosses the line and Azzy is forced to defend himself. Things progress in the Outpost and negotiations are finally wrapped up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** There is a trigger/squick warning of which you can read in the notes at the end of the chapter for those of you who have issues with minor character death and certain sexual kinks. Everyone else, enjoy. :)

Azriel was content to read the new spell book, just lounging in his rooms with his pet snake, of whom he had finally given the name of Nil, since he honestly couldn’t think of a better name. Nil was currently coiled up in his lap as he absently rubbed gentle fingers on her scales while reading, sitting at his desk. He was so engrossed that he jumped nearly a foot when a knock sounded on his door. Scowling thoughtfully, Azriel took a delicate sniff in the direction of the door, noting that it wasn’t Michael this time.

Gently shooing the black snake from his lap, Azriel got up to answer the door with a resigned sigh. “Mr. Gallant, what do I owe the pleasure of your visit at my door?” He asked pleasantly, though inwardly he felt like shutting the door in the human’s face.

Gallant swallowed and rubbed his right sleeve awkwardly, and asked hesitantly, “Can I talk to you for a minute? If not here, somewhere private?” 

Noting that the man had changed his clothes and had bathed, Azriel grew more intrigued. The man smelled a bit nervous, and still shaken up perhaps due to his earlier misdeeds. Feeling a bit of sympathy twinge in his chest, knowing just how odd it had felt after he’d made his own first kill, Azriel murmured softly, “I know a place.”

Leading Gallant to one of the antechambers nearby, the circular room was closed off and secluded and held a winding staircase that led downstairs into one of the offices below, Azriel wondered what this was about. After the incident with Coco, the hairdresser had largely left him alone, and for good reason. Once at the bottom of the stairs and turning to face Gallant, he noticed the man still looked and smelled nervous, but less so than before.

For a long moment neither of them said anything, just regarding one another carefully. Finally Azriel prompted, “Is this about your grandmother? I am so sorry for your loss.”

“You, you heard about that?” Gallant asked, his heartbeat skyrocketing.

Azriel nodded slowly, murmuring calmly, “Yes. I heard that she had passed away this morning.”

“Uh, yea, she died in her sleep,” Gallant lied and it sounded so unbelievingly false that it grated on Azriel’s ears like a door hinge that needed way too much grease. 

“Peaceful deaths are always best when it comes to people we care about,” Azriel admitted, though he shrewdly watched Gallant and wasn’t disappointed when the man flinched. Deciding to let up on the guilt factor, Azriel wandered over to a far end bookcase, candles sparsely lit nearby. He turned and looked at Gallant again, after he’d given the man some time to collect his bearings.

“Let us not dwell on unpleasant tidings. What is it that you wished to speak with me about?” Azriel asked, clasping his hands behind his back, showing a relaxed, but predatorial position.

“I was leaving Ms. Venable’s office, and I kind of overheard in passing -” At Azriel’s arched eyebrow, Gallant backpedaled, “Ok, I eavesdropped! So _sue_ me. I just, I heard Langdon talking to Dinah and well, basically, it looks like she’s probably going to go to the Sanctuary.”

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Azriel nodded slowly and gestured for Gallant to continue. The blonde clenched his fists down at his sides and suddenly glowered at Azriel. “And it looks like Langdon is wanting you to go, too.”

Ah, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. “Really? That’s news to me. What else did you casually overhear?”

“He said that he would be finishing up interviews tomorrow, but that it didn’t matter. He’s already decided who else is going to go, and…. And I just know it’s not me. And I want to know why he’s taking you and Dinah but not _me_!” Gallant finally burst out, true anger spread over his face. “Did he _fuck_ you? Is that it? Is that why he won’t admit to fucking me the other night - because he is now with you?”

 _Jealous much, Mr. Gallant?_ Azriel thought, giving the man a narrowed look of steel. Normally he’d be flattered that someone would be jealous of him for one reason or another, but this was pretty sad, even for Gallant. And the fact that Gallant had been so clingy before the mess with Ms. Coco annoyed the fey warrior. How fickle could a person’s attentions be? 

Then again, Gallant perhaps felt threatened for his life, so there was that. He could perhaps understand why the blonde human was falling into even more desperation. Michael was right. Azriel was nothing like Gallant. With that thought in mind, Azriel stated simply, “None of that concerns you. Even if those things did happen, why should it bother you if it were true? Mr. Langdon is his own person with his own mission. I am simply here on business which also does not concern you. As for why he hasn’t picked you, maybe it’s due to what happened this morning with your grandmother?”

“What...what do you mean?” Gallant asked, suddenly fear coming off of him in thick waves, intermingling with hurt and anger. “My nana died in her sleep.”

“So you say. I for one, have a keen sense of hearing. It wasn’t hard to hear each cold stab of whatever blade you were using. And if that wasn’t damning enough, I saw you covered in blood being led to Ms. Venable’s office from your grandmother’s room. Now, I seriously doubt that you were killing mice or extra snakes in that room, but go ahead and prove me wrong.” When Gallant swallowed but said nothing, Azriel went on cruelly, “I am sure Mr. Langdon felt necessary to oblige you in having you get cleaned up to assess your mental state, but what else could have gone through his head, only he can tell.”

He advanced on Gallant, who suddenly looked lost and purred silkily, driving home the kill, “Your enemy isn’t Ms. Stevens, Mr. Langdon, or perhaps even myself. It’s you. You are your own enemy. How can you even live with yourself, knowing that you are such a hopeless individual?”

Gallant trembled with hurt and despair, anger and rage plummeting. Giving him one last verbal nudge, Azriel added, “Who knows, maybe one of the monsters outside won’t mind fucking you, since that’s all you seem to think of these days.”

The reaction was instant, but Azriel was prepared for it. Gallant’s cry of rage was admirable, but his action was too slow for a Dragon Elf, especially one so seasoned in battle. Gallant tried stabbing Azriel with a pair of already bloodied scissors, and in an instant, Azriel had him up against the wall, one hand clenching his throat, and the other stabbing the human through the crotch area and surrounding tissue with one of his daggers. 

Before Gallant could scream in agony, Azriel allowed dark and cold power to swirl from his hands and dagger into the wounded human. He watched with a cold sense of satisfaction as the human froze solid in seconds from the inside out, stopping his heart. Absently yanking his dagger out of Gallant, he watched the frozen human fall to the ground to shatter into a million crystalized pieces. 

Azriel heard soft claps coming from behind him, and he turned to look at Michael, who was casually leaning up against a bookcase, pleased smirk on his face. “I couldn’t have done it better myself. Death by ice manipulation.” Straightening, the Antichrist came over to Azriel, kneeling down to inspect the shards of crystals. He picked one up with a gloved hand and arched a brow. “I must admit, the dagger to the groin was definitely a nice touch. Remind me never to piss you off.”

“I am glad you approve,” Azriel said, absently cleansing his hands and dagger with a small spell. Once completely cleaned, he put the dagger away in a hidden spot on his side. 

“If you hadn’t started feeding from me when your blood supplements were lost, I might have been a bit concerned about your health… wasting resources like this. But, then again, one never knows where certain humans have been,” Michael stated as he straightened again, and dropped the piece of blood colored ice. “And I can think of way better humans that are still living here that would probably taste better.”

Azriel snorted, drinking in the sight of the other man. Michael was a beautiful creature, definitely, but there was something sinisterly wickedly erotic about him when he was being evil and enjoying himself. “Indeed. Gallant might not be the very last person I would want to try and feed from, but he’s certainly down in the food chain.”

Their conversation was broken by suddenly Gallant’s voice filtering nearby, “Oh my god, what…. What happened? You MURDERED ME!”

Azriel made to attack the ghost that appeared right beside them, but Michael stopped him with a silken purr, “Azzy, let me handle this one. I can’t have you enjoying all the fun.”

With a cruel, malicious growl, Michael reached up with one hand and incinerated the ghost in a matter of seconds, the horrible screams fading quickly and dispersing into thin air. Azriel arched a brow at the dramatic flare, but figured oh well. “As enjoyable as that display was, Michael, you could have used that ghost as one of the souls you need to give my sire,” He pointed out dryly.

“True, but I doubt even your sire would want such a pain in the ass working for him,” Michael deadpanned, causing Azriel to start chuckling in agreement.

Michael regarded Azriel for one long moment before he finally noted that the fey’s mental shields were back up, and pretty strong from the feel of them. “What he said was true. I did tell Ms. Stevens that she would be perfect for the Sanctuary, as would you be, should you decide to come with me when I leave.”

“You knew he was listening in,” Azriel noted with a calculated look. When Michael simply smirked, he snickered. “Brutal, but effective. Admirable.”

“You really think so?” Michael beamed, feeling all sorts of pleased at the compliment.

“Yes,” Azriel said with a small smile. With a soft sigh, he admitted, “It all depends on what my sire wishes. If he wants me to stay, then I will stay for however long I can. But, if he wants me back in Nirsa, then I must obey his commands.”

“I understand,” Michael said, reaching up to palm Azriel’s face. “Though I wish it were easier, I know all too well how much leaders need their subordinates. A kingdom would cease to exist without them.” He watched Azriel nuzzle his hand, feeling the soft skin of the fey’s cheek, wanting nothing more than to take the Elf up against the wall and devour him again.

But, Michael still had interviews to finish. He’d only came down here to watch for a bit of entertainment before heading back up to Ms. Venable’s office. Still, Azriel’s lips were practically begging him to take them, and he couldn’t resist them much longer. He leaned in and captured them, moaning softly at the feel of drowning in Azriel’s mouth, his taste consuming him like a cool wet spring, easing the fire in his veins. Azriel mewled and answered his kiss with one of his own, long, drugging, and so delicious.

Azriel delved into Michael’s mouth, his tongue flicking against the other’s, fire racing through his body with sparks and tantalizing need. When Michael pulled away with reluctance, Azriel trembled and asked softly, “When is your next interview?” He rubbed his thumb over Michael’s lips and breathed in his intoxicating scent. 

Hunger was raging through him, despite feeding from Michael only a few days ago. But, the hunger for blood he could deal with. That combined with lust and need was another story entirely. Killing and bloodlust came hand in hand with Dark Elves, especially Dragon Elves. But, seeing Michael dispose of a soul so easily made Azriel tingle in all the right places. Apparently he had more than one new kinks popping up when it came to carnal desires. He liked seeing Michael being ruthless.

Being powerful, flexing his magic’s wings, showing a bit of the devil inside of him, just wanting to claw its way out. But also seeing his control over it. It was one of the biggest turn ons for Azriel. He was anxious to see just how many more kinks the Antichrist would tug out of his psyche. 

“In about fifteen minutes, just long enough for me to give you what you want,” Michael purred silkily, absently nipping at Azriel’s thumb. 

“You might be surprised,” Azriel said in response, reaching down with one hand to cup the Antichrist’s thickening bulge between his legs. “What exactly I want this time around is - let me please you, this time.”

When Michael shivered and leaned in to bury his face into Azriel’s neck in response, the fey licked his lips and squeezed the Antichrist’s hard cock a few more times. “Go sit in the chair. I want to taste you.” If Michael didn’t like Azriel’s shaky orders, he didn’t show it. The dark ginger haired man backed up towards the office desk and chair, tugging Azriel along with him, not willing to be parted from him at all.

“So, watching me incinerate souls makes you hot,” Michael assumed softly as he sat down on the chair, spreading his legs to admit Azriel as the fey knelt in front of him. 

“You just _breathing_ makes me hot,” Azriel admitted with a wry smirk before he started unclasping Michael’s belt and pants. 

Michael let out a strangled moan as Azriel nuzzled his groin, mouthing the thick ridge of his cock straining against his briefs. “That’s…. Fuck,.... That’s good to know,” The Antichrist stuttered, reaching down to gently stroke Azriel’s hair shakily, knowing just how sensitive it was.

In reward Azriel tugged down his briefs with his teeth and started licking Michael’s bared cock. Using his hands to hold Michael’s hips firmly planted in the chair, Azriel had an interesting time getting more of the other man’s cock in his mouth, but he managed. If there was one thing that Azriel was good at in bed when he did have prior lovers, was that he knew how to suck cock. 

He might not be as skilled as some Dark Elves when it came to fucking or being fucked, but he definitely liked to think that he could blow just about any male and have them thoroughly satisfied. Though he was careful with his fangs, each time one of them rubbed against Michael’s tip or sides of his cock, the man would let out a ragged moan, his hips bucking slightly.

Apparently Michael loved the excitement and danger that his fangs gave him. Good to know. Bobbing his head up and down to create a fast and sucking rhythm, Michael’s grip on his hair tightened before he finally had to let go and grip his shoulder instead for purchase. Azriel rumbled in appreciation before he started teasing Michael’s slit with the tip of his tongue, coaxing out drips of searing hot precome. 

Closing his eyes and concentrating, Azriel’s tongue thinned slightly at the tip and he pierced Michael’s slit, enjoying the loud guttural cry reverberating from the Antichrist’s mouth. With each pass of his tongue, each suck of his wet mouth, graze of his fangs, Michael was so close, so fast. What threw him off the deep end was when Azriel did something to his saliva, directing it and creating a thin trail of ice to slide deep into Michael’s cock, penetrating him so fully and intimately with ice that it made him let out a loud, shocked screaming roar, the whole Outpost shaking with its intensity.

Azriel suckled Michael’s pulsing cock, sliding the thin strip of ice in and out of the Antichrist with his tongue for one long moment, nearly getting dislodged by the human hybrid’s arching hips. He was sure he’d have a couple of nasty bruises where Michael was gripping his shoulders, but this was worth it. Watching Michael come undone so powerfully was a huge turn on. In fact, when Michael threw his head back and wailed out his orgasm, it ripped one from Azriel as well.

The fey sucked down each pulse of come from Michael’s cock, tugging out the piece of ice from the stretched slit, soothing the head with a swirl of his tongue. Michael panted for long moments, feeling like he’d just had the biggest earth-shattering orgasm ever, his sensitive cock still pulsing with come into Azriel’s waiting mouth. It was a good thing he’d put up a sound dampening spell up over the walls of this abandoned office. Otherwise the other members of the Outpost probably would have thought someone had just stabbed Michael, his yells had been so fucking loud.

He had to hand it to Azriel, the fey definitely didn’t mess around with pleasure. When Azriel finally coaxed out the last drop of come from Michael’s slit, he pulled off of it and kissed it tenderly, before releasing Michael’s hips. He put his hands on the other man’s softening cock, letting the coolness soothe Michael’s overheated and sensitive skin.

“What did….did you just do?” Michael rasped hoarsely, watching Azriel as the fey put his spent cock back into his briefs and buttoning up his pants and belt. 

For a long moment, Azriel just rubbed Michael’s hips and thighs soothingly, before he rested a chin on one of the Antichrist’s knees, murmuring, “Performed ice sounding while simultaneously blowing you. Thought you might enjoy it, since you said that my touch cools you down.”

“Enjoy it? More like… Azzy, I can’t even think right now,” Michael admitted, reaching up to stroke the fey’s hair with a shaky hand.

“Is that a bad or a good thing?” Azriel asked, curious and a bit nervous. Usually when he performed this sort of thing, his other previous lovers enjoyed it. He’d never tried it on a human before, hybrid or no, though. 

“Azzy, if it was coming from anyone else but you, it would be a bad thing,” Michael stated, biting his lower lip before he added, “If...if your sire wants you to return to him… I think I am going to go with you. I’ll have to.”

“Why?” Azriel whispered, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed and confused.

Tugging up the fey to where he was nestled in his arms, legs wrapped around his hips like some fucking Koala, Michael finally whispered, “Because I won’t be able to let you go. And if I can’t have you here, I’ll have you in Nirsa.”

### 

Those words haunted Azriel, even a few hours later. It wasn’t because he was afraid of the future, of what it could bring, or the fact that Michael wanted him so much that he couldn’t handle parting with him. No, what made Azriel wary, even a bit on edge was the fact that this had happened so damned fast. He’d been alone for so long, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to cope with Michael all the time. Or even get used to it.

He was, of course thrilled and happy in a giddy fool sort of way, feeling cherished and cared for for the first time in his life. Even his sire’s prior wife hadn’t shown him such love and attention. It was a strange feeling. Azriel wasn’t an idiot though. He knew that in order for Michael to come to his world, there would be tests and legalities that would need to be made. The Antichrist might be the king of Earth, but he would just be a traveling diplomat on Nirsa. He of course would have special attention and rights, but he would have to abide by Nirsa’s laws.

Azriel wasn’t sure what that would mean for someone as dominant and powerful as Michael. 

There was also the fact that if Michael leaved Earth and visited Nirsa, what would happen to Earth? As it was, Azriel wasn’t certain if the Antichrist had a second in command or not. Would the Antichrist be able to trust that his new kingdom would be taken care of should he be away for some time? So many questions raged in the fey’s mind, and it didn’t help that Michael seemed to not think that anything would be a problem. Michael wasn’t stupid, but he seemed to be so casual about his servants that Azriel didn’t know how to take it. 

Kings, of course, are kings. And each one ruled differently. Perhaps Michael would be able to call on his father to help take care of things on Earth. All seven seals had been broken, and all hellmouths were open wide for demons to come through. If Michael’s father was still locked away in the deepest realm of Earthen Hell, then perhaps he could send infantry out to keep Michael’s kingdom from potential mutiny.

After Azriel had cuddled with Michael for a few minutes, both went their separate ways, leaving the crystal shards were they were, knowing that no one came to that abandoned office at all anyways. And even if some stray human exploring found the shards, they would just think them pretty red gems, nothing more, despite how cold they would be to touch. Azriel’s powers over snow and ice were formidable. Gallant would stay in crystalized shard form until the end of time, or even perhaps longer than that.

The former hairdresser’s absence would have to be explained, but Azriel didn’t have to worry about that. He knew Michael would take care of that sort of thing and deal accordingly. 

Azriel had a few more hours before he would need to meet with Michael again to go over more negotiations. Their previous agreements were being drawn up in a blood sealing contract already. All they would need to do is add to the list of the treaty between the both of them and their people. 

With a soft sigh, Azriel took a hot shower, basking in its heat before he dressed and headed downstairs for the last unread book in the library-lounge, his snake curled up in his tunic the whole way. The poor thing probably was bored to tears being locked up in his room all day for the past few days. But, Nil seemed to not mind, and though she was quite a bit bigger than when he first got her, she still was able to settle around his shoulders with her head close to his heart.

### 

“You’ve made the assumption that I am looking for people pure of heart, non-blemished, pure lily white,” Michael said softly, narrowing his eyes at Andre as he came to stand near his sitting form. The man might not be as annoying as Gallant had turned out to be, but he was close. Very close. Still, the man might have some latent abilities, considering he seemed to be wary of him, not just Azriel. Perhaps it was prey instinct, knowing a predator when he spotted one. 

Frankly, the only reason why he hadn’t decided on leaving Andre to die here just yet was due to Ms. Dinah Stevens. He wondered why he even bothered. Granted, the voodoo Queen was a good ally to have in his Sanctuary, but her son was sorely lacking in most ways. Even considering Andre for a potential spot in his city was a favor or a gift for Dinah. Whether or not he decided to allow the flamboyant male entry to the Sanctuary was his choice to make. Andre at this point, was on the precipice of being eliminated.

With a soft sigh, Michael looked into the flames in front of him, the fireplace warming his already heated skin. His cock was still twitching every now and then from Azriel’s prior attentions on it, even a few hours later. If he would have known carnal pleasures would have been this fun, perhaps he would have delved into that sort of study with much more interest in the past. Then again, there was only one Azriel. And Dark Elves were way more sensual beasts than humans were. Maybe that’s why Michael hadn’t been interested much in that sort of pleasure until he met the fey just a short span of days ago. And when he had told Azriel earlier that he was different when it came to his needs and desires than Gallant, he’d spoken truth. Whereas Gallant mostly thought and acted through his cock, Azriel used his brain.

He was unique, so like himself, but also very different. Seeing the Elf in action earlier had been satisfying and enjoyable. The fey was as ruthless as most Dark Elves, and didn’t hesitate to destroy his enemies. Feeling his cock get more interested in that fact, Michael forced himself to finish this interview and concentrate on his objectives. He could always enjoy being wrapped up in Azriel later that night.

It was only a matter of time before the fey was his, mind and body. Eventually, he’d get his soul as well. Michael wasn’t sure how to obtain it just yet, but he would. And then, when Azriel was completely his, he’d make sure that the fey gave it all to him and more. Michael had also been telling the truth about not being able to let him go earlier. He wanted Azriel, craved him. And he wouldn’t ever be parted from him if he could help it. Azriel was his now. 

And he was very possessive and protective over what was his.

“I want a world without the hypocrisy, with the kinds of people that wouldn’t just eat the fruits from the Forbidden Tree but would cut the fucking tree down and burn it for firewood,” Michael purred, kneeling down near Andre.

He gauged the man’s expressions and waited for a bit before he finally said softly, “Would you go into that type of world and not be afraid?”

Andre swallowed but then shrugged and flippantly said, “As long as there is food and water, fine. You aren’t going to make me kill anyone there are you?”

“That depends,” Michael shrewdly looked into Andre’s eyes, finally sensing the hidden darkness there. It was so hidden by a web of spells that were very old that Michael had to nearly possess the other human’s mind in order to even find it. But, it was there.

Apparently one Dinah Stevens hadn’t been truthful earlier when talking about Andre. Her son definitely had magic, perhaps as strong as her own.

Interesting.

In protecting Andre, Dinah had nearly stunted his magical growth. How disappointing. 

Andre finally balked and shook himself, as if to clear whatever it was he was sensing from Michael. Reining himself in, Michael straightened and said, “Thank you, Andre. That will be all, for now.”

“Ok. Thank you,” Andre said, wrinkling his nose a bit as he stood and left the office. 

Now that he was alone, Michael reached out with his senses, noting where every person was in the Outpost. Mallory and the other greys were in the kitchen getting some cube mineral dinners for the purples. Ms. Mead, now patched up and fully aware of herself being a machine was speaking with Ms. Venable. The purples were in various places on the second level, the guards dutifully at the entrance to the Outpost. Azriel was in the lounge, actually sitting on one of the sofas for a change, glancing through a high level spell book. 

Smirking slowly, Michael purred, “Fire and Ice. Perhaps you and I are victims of prophecy. Or maybe fate has nothing to do with it for once.”

Maybe it was time to give Azriel something better to read. With that in mind, Michael headed to his room, knowing that there were no more interviews until after dinner. He made a quick detour to Ms. Venable’s room, letting her know that Gallant had slipped and fell on some stairs and his body disposed of. To her credit, Ms. Venable hid her obvious delight and wicked mirth from her face, but her eyes gave her away. Ms. Mead, however, snorted at the humor, and Michael was forced to frown a bit at her before leaving.

Only a day or two left, and the plan would be completed. And hopefully, Azriel would be on one side of him and Ms. Mead on the other as he left for home. 

Once he grabbed a few books he figured the fey might find interesting, Michael closed his eyes and summoned another carriage, this time with just a suitcase full of red apples. Everything was proceeding just as planned.

### 

“So, correct me if I am wrong, but each soldier will come with their own armor, weapons - what about blood resources? I doubt they would want to feed off of the remaining radiated populace, and there aren’t very many demons or humans from the Sanctuary that could donate,” Michael narrowed his eyes at one of the scrolls showing enough legal information it made his eyes swim and his brain hurt. 

Azriel was sitting in front of him, a few empty pieces of paper at his side, making a few notes with a pen. Human utensils were odd, but effective. Back on Nirsa, everything was done with a spell. Books and tombs were made with a special type of ink and quills, but notes were made with spells. Rubbing the pen’s smooth surface, Azriel was a bit distracted before he turned his attention back on Michael.

“Dark Elves can feed off each other if need be. But, in this case they would have blood rations if donors are not available. Some even feed off of the blood of the diseased, so rest assured, none of my people will go hungry,” Azriel explained. “About the only thing they will need is shelter to sleep in. Even if the facilities do not having running water or electricity, Dark Elves are a war bound people. They know how to live in hard to survive places. Even if they are not allowed shelter for a bit, they can use the trees if not too diseased. 

“The ten darker sourced magic bound Dark Elves - Dragon Elves like myself, also take energy from starlight or moonlight. If the radiation hasn’t settled as much in a year’s time, perhaps they can be of use in the coldest places - like the northern or southern pole portals you want built - where radiation isn’t as present but it’s still inhospitable for regular humans to survive. The building of those portals might take sixteen months to fully build, but my people will still be able to send the ten requested darker Elves ahead of time with the others to make things easier.”

“Nice to know that your people are resourceful. I will see what I can come up with in a year’s time for the others. For eight of the Dragon Elves, I’ll be sure to have suitable lodging at both poles built - even if I must do it myself. But, I would like to have two stationed at the Sanctuary portal at least,” Michael said with a soft sigh. Once the negotiations and treaty were complete, signed, and filed, there would be one year Earth’s time for the fey kingdom to work on two main already built portals and get them all fortified with reinforcements and enhanced with advanced amenities. In sixteen months, the extra three portals would be built and ready to go. Michael would have requested more portals to be built on other sides of the world, but he’d have to negotiate more souls for that. Perhaps in time, if things went well with the alliance between his kingdom and Nirsa, his father would be willing to relinquish his hold over some more souls.

For now, they would just have to make do with what was agreed upon. The fact that the Dark Elven King was allowing three extra portals was a bonus, perhaps even a gift, but like Azriel had advised him, Michael knew that no gift was given without expectations of a return gift. So, Michael had offered to give each magic bound Dark Elf a demon slave from the Sanctuary that were already under his command. He had not heard a rebuke from his father, so Michael felt that it was a safe bet to hand over the reigns of fifty lesser bound demons to keep the peace. He was wary of giving in anymore without Satan’s permission. 

Once the portals were completely finished, it would be then that Michael would exchange the souls for Elven soldiers and the portals would then be opened on a hopefully permanent basis. 

And though Michael didn’t want to have to deal with a possibility of his new kingdom getting bogged down by things like capitalism or even socialism - any kind of infrastructure that was corrupt and too orderly, he understood the need for alliances. So, trade and perhaps some commerce would happen between himself, his subordinates, and the Dark Elven world. And after some time had passed, perhaps his father would like to extend influence of his stronger demons into Nirsa.

Though he doubted there would be a need for another Armageddon for some time, he didn’t know Satan’s mind or plans except for what he’d been instructed and told. Michael only knew so much of the grand picture, and like Azriel, he was just a soldier following orders in a sense. He was a king, yes, and had a whole world at his fingertips, but Michael was not naive to not understand just how he managed to get to this point and who had helped him along the way. 

“Then I guess this concludes our negotiations for now. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Sir Davari,” Michael said with a small, pleased smirk.

“And you, Mr. Langdon,” Azriel said, banishing the signed scrolls with a flick of his wrist. One copy was given to Michael, of which he sent immediately to a secret place in the Sanctuary, and one was placed in Malfrin’s pack. “The first of the upgrades will show up within a week and construction on the three other portals will start in a month’s time.”

“Excellent. Now that business has been taken care of, would you care to join me in my rooms? I have a few matters I would like to discuss with you in a more… private setting. I also might have some books you might be interested in,” Michael purred silkily, arching a brow when Azriel flushed slightly.

He didn’t have to read the fey’s mind or smell his scent to know where Azriel’s thoughts were going. 

“Of course,” Azriel murmured, feeling his heart and blood start to race. 

He watched as the Antichrist stood and walked around the desk to him, offering a hand for him to take. Azriel swallowed carefully and took up the hand, though he knew that Michael knew he was perfectly capable of getting up without help. The feel of Michael’s fingers intertwining with his felt good. Michael’s skin was electric on his, and as he stood, the Antichrist tugged Azriel sharply against him, leaning down to capture his lips in one slow kiss.

When Michael pulled away, Azriel whispered, “You are a menace and an addiction. It’s troubling.”

“But it doesn’t frighten you, does it?” Michael asked, blue eyes softened in the dim candle and fire light. 

“No, Michael. Just makes me wary of how fast things are progressing, that’s all,” Azriel admitted, reaching up to run his fingers along Michael’s cheek. The Antichrist took up that hand and kissed his palm. 

“I do excite you though, don’t I?” Michael teased lightly, moving to kiss Azriel’s knuckles tenderly.

“Yes.” Azriel nodded with a small smirk. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Michael snickered at that, and said, “I’ll try to remember that in the future.” Dropping Azriel’s hand gently, Michael made way for the door to the office. “Come, we must go, before we get some unwanted guests.”

Azriel snorted and huffed out a sigh, again not having much of a choice but to follow him.

### 

On their way to Michael’s rooms, the proximity alert flared, signalling an intruder. Azriel snapped his attention to Michael, but when he noted that the man simply smirked, he figured that this wasn’t something he needed to worry about. Once inside Michael’s rooms, Azriel turned to him and asked simply, “Something in your genius plan to crush your enemies, I presume?”

Michael looked at him playfully, an evil smirk widening to a grin was all Azriel needed to know. However, the dark ginger haired man offered softly, “Something like that.” Closing the door and locking it behind him with a flick of his wrist, Michael was determined not to be bothered at all tonight, even if the whole place decided to go up in smoke. He was tired of these people and their petty grievances.

He knew that this part of weeding through all of the candidates for truly evil as well as cunning individuals would be fun and a bit entertaining. But, his patience always tended to wear thin when he had to deal with imbeciles or weak people that thought themselves saintly, even after the Apocalypse. And he wasn’t the tiniest bit surprised that this Outpost, much like the others he had already visited was full of people he saw no value in. 

The two witches perhaps might be valuable, and even perhaps Andre, if his overprotective mother let his true nature show, but as for all the others? About the only non magic person that had any sense of worth was perhaps Ms. Venable. Regardless of all that, once he shut down this place and returned to his Sanctuary, he could decide on what to do with the other three remaining International Outposts. He, of course, had lied when addressing the humans about that little fact. 

Michael knew all too well just how each and every Outpost - International or no was faring. Only the Outposts in Berlin, Germany, Moscow, Russia, and Sydney, Australia were the last ones left that hadn’t been overrun by monsters or destroyed by himself. 

Looking at Azriel now, he figured he might have to create a few changes to his plans if he wanted to have the white haired fey by his side for the foreseeable future. The glimpses his father had shown him of the future were definitely intriguing, and the fact that his father had essentially given him his blessing even before Michael had decided on ‘keeping’ Azriel made him feel even more anxious to have the fey warrior as his. 

Michael almost wondered if Azriel would want to go with him to shut down the other Outposts. That is, if the fey was allowed to stay for a while longer. Figuring that the fey probably wouldn’t be opposed to joining him in this, Michael decided that he’d discuss it later with Azriel after the fey got his next orders, whatever they may be.

Azriel regarded the Antichrist for a long moment, curiosity brimming, despite the fact that this didn’t concern him. Or shouldn’t. “I admit, I am most curious. However, I also know my place here. I will not stick my nose into anything that does not concern me.”

“Oh, but it does concern you. That’s one of the reasons why I wanted to speak with you away from prying ears,” Michael purred, heading over to sit down at his desk, offering the bed next to him as a seat.

The fey huffed out a small chuckle, making his way over to get onto Michael’s bed. Once settled into a lotus position near the edge closest to Michael, Azriel stated simply, “I am all ears.”

“There is a carriage I sent for that just arrived carrying apples from the Sanctuary. Though I know you do not eat them, be sure you don’t even handle them, even if Ms. Venable wants you to. I will of course, insure that Ms. Mead does not give you any.”

 _Apples?_ Arching a brow a bit in confusion, Azriel tugged some information from what he had gleaned a few days ago from Mary and Ms. Mead. Why would he not need to touch fruit of all things? Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, things started suddenly making sense. The snakes from earlier, the apples coming in shortly. “You mean to kill them all with poison?” He assumed.

“Very clever. Indeed, yes. Except for a few. Ms. Stevens regrettably will have to be saved. Her son I am still debating. I couldn’t care less if that pathetic excuse for a man lives, but if I spare him, it would help secure Ms. Stevens’ loyalty. He does have latent dark abilities but I am not sure if he has enough spine to dip into the darkness the way I want him to. One of the things my Sanctuary definitely does not need, is a coward joining the ranks. Perhaps you might have a different person in mind whom you think would be of more use to my ranks than Mr. Andre,” Michael said, narrowing his eyes when Azriel suddenly stiffened in interest. “I am most curious to see which one of the others besides Ms. Mead and Ms. Stevens is worthy to be saved from my purging of this Outpost.”

Thinking for a long moment, Azriel finally murmured, “Perhaps Mallory….” At Michael’s sharp look, he rushed to explain, “She has darkness within her. I can feel it. She’s not like Ms. Coco or Ms. Stevens. It’s almost like she is grey, intermingled with too pure of light. If we can sway her, she would be a valuable asset to your Sanctuary. Yes, she has light but she balances it with her darkness - grey magic is a very useful tool to have under one’s thumb,” Azriel flushed under Michael’s intense stare and then stated softly, “She is the only one that seems worth your time, if anything. She might be a trap waiting to happen, but perhaps Mallory would be worth the risk? As for non-magical creatures, Ms. Venable would be the next option, though I am not sure how her weaknesses define her. You would be a better judge of her character than myself.”

“I sensed Mallroy’s darkness as well, but I doubt we will be able to sway her without breaking the seal on her powers. Perhaps, once she dies, I can speak with her soul. And if she cannot be swayed, then she will be incinerated,” Michael murmured, noting that Azriel didn’t seem too bent out of shape about the the thought of the girl being killed. Good. 

Then Azriel wasn’t attached, just merely calculating ruthless odds. The fey was correct in thinking that Mallory would be about the only one worth saving of the remaining people in the Outpost. The others were too shallow, too good to be acceptable in his Sanctuary. Even Ms. Venable, though as evil as she was, would probably turn out rather disappointing. He wasn’t even sure if the woman had it in her to carry out his evil deeds.

Maybe he would be pleasantly surprised tomorrow. 

“Understood,” Azriel said with a small smile. 

“As for Ms. Venable, we will find out just how ruthless she is tomorrow,” Michael purred, folding one leg over the other casually. “Just ensure that if Ms. Venable tries to get you to join the festivities tomorrow evening if there are any, that you politely decline her invitation, saying you have a meeting with me. Though the poison might be completely harmless to you, that’s a risk I am not sure I want you to take. Please oblige me in this, just this once.”

“Festivities… you believe them to have a party over fruit?” Then again, that made sense considering these humans hadn’t had any sustainable food except nutrition cubes in over 18 months. Perhaps it would be something to celebrate, and a perfect opportunity for Ms. Venable and maybe Ms. Mead to come up with a way to dispose of the other guests. 

When Michael simply smirked, Azriel let out a soft dark chuckle, saying, “Isn’t that a bit messy?”

“Yes, but it was one of the only ways my father saw that wouldn’t set off the witches’ possible alarm system spells on their fellow girls. If these girls are in fact from Cordelia’s coven. And if not, it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Michael explained. “If Ms. Venable decides not to do what I have Ms. Mead suggest to her, then I will have to think of another method. Ms. Stevens will regrettably have to go through the poisoning, as her son for I don’t want things to look too suspicious. I can always revive her right after the deed is done and her son if need be.”

Azriel nodded slowly, digesting the information. “Quick and effective. Tomorrow will be interesting to be sure. I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.”

Michael snickered at that, and slowly looked Azriel over, sobering to a small smirk. “When do you need to contact your sire for an update?”

Azriel caught his gaze and whispered softly, catching Michael’s mouthwatering scent as he did so, “Not for another few hours at the earliest.”

Michael was aroused, or more so than usual, and with bloodlust trying to leap into his throat, Azriel was starting to have a tough time trying to think around him. Michael sure knew how to turn on his seduction and make it work for him like a pro. Swallowing carefully, Azriel forced himself to sit still and hear the other man out. Just because the Antichrist was horny didn’t mean he wanted to give in to pleasure just yet.

Michael looked him over again, taking note that the fey, to his credit, wasn’t budging on the bed, despite the fact that he could tell by his scent, dilated slitted eyes and elevated heart rate that Azriel was affected by him. Pheromones were easy now to manipulate for Michael, unlike in the past. Simply turning up the heat in his already furnace type of heated blood seemed to affect the fey in front of him, not just plain and simple arousal. He knew he was laying it on thick, his scent of dark miasma and lust, but it was way too tempting to resist toying with the fey just a bit. 

“Good,” Michael purred softly, his eyes lingering on Azriel’s thickening groin. Those pants did nothing to hide his hardening arousal and he felt his mouth water when the fey let out a soft hitched breath. Still, the fey made no move to adjust himself in any way, and Michael was pleased.

Very pleased.

This meant that Azriel was growing more comfortable in this aspect of their budding relationship. 

Uncrossing his legs smoothly, Michael finally asked in a seductive voice, “Do you need to feed, Azzy? Tomorrow, things will get messy like you said. Would it be easier to curb your hunger before then so it doesn’t bother you as much?”

Shit. Azriel had to hand it to him. Michael sure knew how to pounce all over his kinks. Feeling lust and sin skyrocket inside him, darkness swirling through him like some rabid beast, Azriel managed to push it down to a manageable level. When he simply looked down at his folded hands in his lap, trying to keep his body from betraying him just yet, Michael moved so fast he barely caught a blur before the Antichrist was down on his knees in front of him, taking up his hands into his.

“You haven’t replenished enough yet for… for that,” Azriel whispered, swallowing carefully and trying to avoid Michael’s gaze.

“Still worried about hurting me, aren’t you?” Michael assumed, feeling a bit fond but also exasperated. When Azriel flushed a bit, he knew he had been right. Looking down at their joined hands, Michael rubbed the fey’s fingers gently, trying to figure out a way to solve this little problem. Somehow he doubted trying to push the other man into feeding would be a good thing. Azriel had proved very much like him in the fact that if someone pushed him to do something he didn’t want to do, he’d push back just as hard, trust lost.

And Michael very much did not want to lose the fey’s trust.

“Also, you… I pushed you earlier. I have no idea how humans deal with sounding…. Or even ice sounding - with Dark Elves, they seem to deal with it ok and are up for anything afterwards but I didn’t want to assume -” Azriel stuttered and fell silent when Michael started snickering.

Flushing more, he looked down at their joined hands, feeling all kinds of embarrassed now.

“Look at me, Azzy. Look at me,” Michael said, feeling mirth well up within him, even though he tried to stifle his amusement as to not make the situation worse.

Of all the things to be worried about, Azriel definitely was an intriguing Dark Elf.

Azriel looked up and into Michael’s amused eyes, and almost looked away. Almost. But, when Michael started snorting again, his amusement was infectious and Azriel smiled a bit in spite of himself. “You asshole. I am being serious,” The fey stated dryly. 

“I know, and in doing so, you are being adorable,” Michael said fondly before he sobered and asked, “How many times do I have to tell you… or show you for that matter, that I am nothing like normal?”

When Azriel still looked hesitant, Michael added, “In all honesty, I replenished ALL of my power and blood earlier when you fucked my cock seven ways to Hell and back - which was rather impressive and mind-blowingly epic, I might add. Remember when I said that I feed off of other sources than what a normal human does?”

Azriel nodded slowly, eyes widening slightly in understanding. “I’ll have you know that my father’s succubi and incubi showed me quite well just how to feed off of sexual stimulation. And you, my dear, gave me a high so strong I nearly took down the entire Outpost because I enjoyed it so fucking much.” Michael narrowed his eyes and murmured, “So, let me be as plain as I can be. Stop worrying about hurting me for now and enjoy yourself. And let me be the judge of my own limits. I appreciate your caring and in fact it’s rather sweet, but know that when I ask you if you want to feed, I am not just saying it because it’s the right thing to do. It’s because I crave your teeth in my veins and I want you and I both to feel _pleasure_. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Azriel breathed, feeling like he’d just been socked in the chest by electric arousal. Apparently another kink to add to the ‘Michael’ list was him being determined and bossy. 

“Like I said before, I am _nothing_ like normal,” Michael purred, arching up to capture Azriel’s lips to end the discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning: Canonical Minor Character Death. Those of you who like Gallant, I am very, very sorry. Hopefully you guys don't hate me for this, but it worked with the story line. If you don't want to read about his death, just scroll from 'The reaction was instant....' and go to 'Michael regarded Azriel for one long moment.....' Also if sexual sounding is not your thing, you might want to skip the part after Gallant's death and move to the phrase "What did....did you just do?"


	6. Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it gets any hotter... yea. Anyways, enjoy! Lots of bloodplay in this one, so ye have been warned. :) Art gif was made by me. Hope you like it. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **very small mention of canonical suicide, otherwise, read the tags. Bloody kinky times await ;) **

“Do you have any idea, how much I want you, right now?” Michael murmured against Azriel’s lips, his hands delving into the fey’s sensitive white hair.

“I can take a guess,” Azriel replied, eyelids falling to half mast as pleasure wound it’s way up his spine to settle in all the right places. Nerve endings blazing with each touch from Michael, the fey somehow knew that this feeding, that this night, would be more pleasurable than the last. 

More erotic, sinful, and _delicious_.

Michael was not holding back anymore from what the fey could tell, and Azriel couldn’t fathom why the Antichrist found him so fascinating. But, he wasn’t going to question it for now. Reaching up to run his fingers through Michael’s dark ginger hair, Azriel held Michael’s gaze for a moment, just enjoying the fact that tonight didn’t have to be about rushing.

Michael was done with his interviews, and as Azriel had stated before, he didn’t need to contact his sire for some time, possibly going as far as to stretch the time into the next morning. Tonight, the two of them could take their time. Bloodlust was still thick in the fey’s veins, but he was determined to draw this out as long as possible. Michael didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry either. Perhaps he sensed Azriel’s need.

The Antichrist asked softly, his voice hitching slightly with need, “May I take you tonight? I want to taste every part of your skin, feel every part of you intimately, and if you let me in, I want to give you _everything_. Will you let me in, Azzy? In to touch your mind, not just delve in your body?”

 _Holy shit_ , Azriel thought, mouth going dry, and fangs lengthening in response. 

Shivering, the fey reached in to cup Michael’s face, feeling soft skin. Tension was thick between them, and Azriel didn’t have to glance between them to know that Michael was as rock hard as he was, possibly even more so. “Let me worship you. Let me in, Azzy, and I’ll give you everything. Everything I have will be _yours_.”

Those words were the same exact phrase Michael had spoken to him mentally in his first dream. Shock radiated off of the fey, but he forced himself to push that thought away, knowing now wasn’t the time to delve into the significance. Without a doubt in his mind now, Azriel knew that he was falling for Michael. And hard.

Fated or no, these past few span of days with Michael had given him something in his life he hadn’t ever had before. The will to survive had always been there yes, as his loyalty in serving his sire and his people. But, nothing could compare to the excitement, the pleasure, and overwhelmingly possessive desire to be with someone. If he wasn’t careful, Michael would take his heart, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it once it happened.

But, perhaps resistance was futile. 

“Yes,” Azriel found himself saying, not quite understanding just how much that word meant to Michael.

The Antichrist breathed in a sigh of relief and the smile on his face was worth the sacrifice. Still, Michael wasn’t a fool, and though he nuzzled and nipped at Azriel’s palms on his cheeks, he did ask shrewdly, “Yes to what?”

Without hesitation, the fey threw all his prior nervousness and caution to the wind. He drew in Michael for a slow, devouring kiss, turning on his own gift of seduction. It felt good to finally let go, to let his wings manifest, and to surrender to Michael’s pleas. Humans were more susceptible to Dark Elven pheromones, but as Michael had said earlier, he was not normal. The both of them were perhaps not lost souls meeting one another on different playing fields, but Azriel could sense a taste of Michael’s soul. His powers fully unleashed, intermingling with the dark miasma that was Michael’s aura, Azriel let his mental barriers fall willingly.

He might be damned, but even if Michael’s lust and fire consumed him, Azriel was willing to take the risk. The fey had never felt so alive, so meaningful to someone before. And Michael’s soul felt incredible and powerful. He could practically taste the intoxicating evil mingled with other, more shadowed feelings. The fey had to admit that he couldn’t resist such an offer. The chance to feel Michael’s soul rubbing up against him, while his own soul had been locked away for thousands of years was so tempting. He’d be a fool to resist this.

Though he was still leery of giving away his heart to the son of Satan, he wasn’t opposed anymore to letting the man see a glimpse into his mind or to physically pound his ass into the ground. 

Pulling away from Michael’s lips, opening his black slitted blue eyes, Azriel stripped them both of their clothing and weaponry with one merciless thought. Slowly smirking, the fey asked huskily, “Does that answer your question, Michael?”

“Nonverbally yes, but I would still like to hear you say it,” Michael answered, narrowing his gaze thoughtfully to take in the beautiful sight of Azriel’s black dragon wings. Big enough to stretch several feet, but small enough to fold inward to rest on his back comfortably, the fey’s wings were quite an amazing sight. Unlike Earthen batwings, Azriel’s wings had scales gracing up each ‘forearm’ that extended down each ‘finger’, the thin membrane webbing between each ‘finger’ was a lot stronger too. Like batwings, claws were situated at each ‘finger’ end, however, the claws were able to retract much like the fey’s fangs. 

Michael had not been able to touch those wings the night before, but only because Azriel had retracted them shortly after the Antichrist had nearly blown his mind to bits while sucking his cock. Though the human hybrid ached to touch them, along with Azriel’s sensitive ears, he refrained from doing so. But barely.

Eyes flickering back to meet Azriel’s, he licked his lips and smiled smugly when the fey let out a resigned huff. “Yes, you may conquer my body and mind if you wish, your _Majesty_ ,” Azriel stated, his voice teasing but still dripping with sarcasm.

Michael let out a soft amused laugh at that. “So sassy.” But then he asked pointedly, “Does this include touching your ears and wings?”

Azriel’s eyes softened, suddenly understanding what Michael was doing. So far, ever since that one slip up with his hair the first day he met the Antichrist, Michael had been very careful about the fey’s boundaries, physical and mental. Azriel appreciated that. It would make sense then that Michael was asking for permission to touch things and do things that previously hadn’t been discussed about or hadn’t been allowed. Getting a frottage session or blow job was one thing, touching his ears, wings, mind and even fucking him were completely different things. Feeling sentiment swell in his heart, the Dragon Elf pushed some of that away and whispered, “Yes. Just go slow…. If… if you do decide to touch them. I haven’t let many touch them before.”

“Then I consider it an honor, not just a pleasure, Azzy,” Michael rumbled softly, reaching up to pull the fey into another kiss, further discussion not needed.

Though they didn’t need to rush tonight, Michael was still quick when spreading Azriel onto his back moments later, mindful of the fey’s wings. Azriel arched his back a few times to allow his wings to stretch out and drape across the bed and off of it. Michael crawled onto the bed beside the fey, coming to kneel on bent knees near Azriel’s thighs. He looked over the gorgeous creature splayed out beneath him, his body beckoning and pliant. Pale skin, slightly pinkened due to the flush of arousal, his budded nipples taught and ripe for tasting, his almost fully hard erection lay pressed up against his abdomen, soft balls heavy beneath it, legs slightly parted and relaxed, white hair splayed much like his wings on Michael’s sheets… the whole picture was exquisite and Michael wanted to memorize everything in extensive detail.

Azriel took his time drinking his own fill of Michael’s body, taking in each light golden plain, each rise and fall of the human hybrid’s chest, dusky taught nipples, slightly rounded navel and thick cock rising above a nest of dark ginger curls. Hell, even the Antichrist’s feet were adorable. Azriel wasn’t one to find much attractive about feet, especially toes, but Michael had some cute ones, he had to admit.

“Fuck you are beautiful,” Michael murmured, reaching down to lightly trace a few fingers down Azriel’s chest, enjoying the slight hitch in the fey’s breath at the act. “Perhaps 'beautiful' isn’t that good enough a word, and 'perfect' might be a bit too trite.”

Azriel snorted in mirth in spite of himself and forced himself to stay relaxed, though the flush rising over his skin and face gave Michael all the information he needed to know on just how his words had affected the fey. Azriel admitted, “Same goes for you. Perhaps the ‘epitome of the human male species’ might give you more of an ego, but it’s still true.”

“You definitely have a way with words,” Michael stated with a soft chuckle. 

Growing more somber, Michael asked softly, “Since I have never been with a Dark Elf before, not in this sense, does your kind need extra lubrication for penetrative sex?”

Azriel had to hand it to the Antichrist, he seemed to know just how to talk about sex and carnal exploits like he was talking about the weather. Most humans had a difficult time doing so or they felt embarrassed by it. Azriel himself, though he had never really been an awkward sensual individual, the release of emotions from stimulus could make him quite shy. But for now, he was ok with telling the human hybrid all he needed to know. 

Or showing him.

Reaching over to take hold of Michael’s hand, he sent a mental message to him, showing pictures more than words. Michael licked his lips and closed his eyes at the odd mental sensation. Most humans couldn’t read thoughts or send mental images. Only a few witches and warlocks he had encountered in his life had had the ability, and most often he could feel their fumbling attempts to keep themselves hidden from discovery. Azriel’s kin apparently had an affinity for mental arts, so the fey’s mental touch was gentle, and possibly even undetectable by any normal human being. Psychically well endowed, Michael felt the fey’s touch like a breath or a small brush of cool wind. Like his blood and body, Azriel’s thoughts were cool and calming. 

Michael let out a trembling breath, taking the message for what it was, and when the fey withdrew from his mind, he followed, touching Azriel’s mind for the first time while the Dragon Elf was awake. Azriel’s eyelids fell shut and he let out a soft mewl as he felt Michael’s touch. It felt warm, not quite too hot, but the fey knew that if he wanted to, Michael could rip his mind apart in seconds with heat if not by force of will. The power the Antichrist possessed was delicious, just as much as it was malevolent and dangerous. Feeling licks of heat go up and down his spine as Michael penetrated more into his mind, albeit gently, Azriel felt his heart start to race. He was so distracted by the human hybrid’s thoughts rubbing against his own, that he didn’t notice the man moving.

Michael crawled over slowly to cage the fey in, anxious to feel and see every nook and cranny of Azriel’s mind, shuddering as he finally settled above the ethereal creature beneath him. When he started digging through memories, Azriel let out a soft whimper, arching his back slightly. “Michael, I can’t…. Not like that….Not yet.”

“Forgive me, my darling. I was letting my curious nature get the better of me. It won’t happen again,” Michael said softly, letting up and away from that area of Azriel’s mind. He settled in to draw the fey in for a soothing kiss, of which Azriel returned with a relieved mewl. 

Azriel reached up and delved his hands into Michael’s hair, enjoying the silky strands. Michael lowered himself slowly onto the fey, enjoying each point of contact that their skin made until finally he settled, still caging Azriel in, but not by much. He only allowed enough space between the two of them so that both of them could breath easy. He was careful not to press down too hard, just in case his weight put too much pressure on Azriel’s wings.

Pulling away from Azriel’s lips, he took a moment to look down at him through half hooded eyes. The fey didn’t seem to be uncomfortable, though he did seem a bit nervous about something. It was then that he realized he was still lodged in the fey’s mind and he slowly smirked. “You have nothing to fear, Azzy. I’ll make sure you feel really good.”

 _That’s what I am actually afraid of,_ Azriel couldn’t help thinking. 

Azriel was definitely no virgin, physical or otherwise, but when it came to being mentally stimulated, he was a bit nervous about that. He’d only dabbled in mental carnal arts as a young Elf a few times and only because he had been curious. Each time had been a bit too intense for him. Too intimate.

Trying to push away his apprehension, Azriel tugged Michael down for a steaming kiss, distracting himself, but also distracting the dark ginger haired man above him. Michael allowed the kiss, moaning softly when Azriel arched his back languidly, spreading his thighs more to allow more room for the Antichrist to settle in between them. He could feel Azriel’s cool silken arousal pressing very close to his own, making him hungry to taste it and every part of the fey’s skin. Deepening the kiss, swallowing Azriel’s moans with sinful pleasure, Michael reached down between them to line up their cocks to slide deliciously against one another.

The end result had Azriel bucking up against him, nearly splitting Michael’s lower lip with a fang as he let out a ragged cry. The Antichrist lowered his hips and rolled them sinuously, creating delicious friction, and just what Azriel was practically begging for. The fey threw his head back and let out a shaky wail as his body suddenly hit a small high. 

“So sensitive,” Michael murmured softly, feeding off of Azriel’s lust, biting his abused lower lip and closing his eyes at the sensation. “To feel what you do, how… how do you even stay sane around me?”

When the fey shivered and let out another gasp, arching up to rub his cock again against Michael’s creating another small high, the Antichrist bore down to meet him, letting out a ragged moan of his own. _You crave me, my touch, my aura, my lust, my breath, my voice, my taste, my everything. I don’t understand why, nor do I understand what it means. But, know this, I will never hurt you intentionally…._

Azriel suddenly had his limber thighs wrapped around Michael’s hips, creating more of a rhythm to their slow but deliciously erotic movements. Michael bore down and found Azriel’s lips, growling out a hiss as his cock rubbed up against the fey’s now wet cock. His own precome was mingling with the fey’s, creating a slicker, more desirable slide. _I will never betray you…._

 _And I will never, ever let you down. I protect my own. I failed in the past, but I will not fail you. You are mine and I will give you all. I give you everything I am. **Everything**_. As the words kept spilling from Michael, intentionally or otherwise, Azriel felt emotion and sentiment take over, shaking him to the core. Black tears started falling down his cheeks, but he was not able to stop them.

When Michael threw back his hair to bare his left side of his throat and neck, Azriel was doomed. He was caught up in the intoxication and seduction that was Michael, their dark powers and auras mingling and dancing in a dangerously erotic show. Tendrils of white heat rolled up Azriel’s skin, and he was helpless but to give in to his body’s demands, as well as Michael’s. 

Azriel wrapped his trembling arms around Michael’s shoulders, drawing him close in a deadly, but pleasurable embrace. Michael’s gift was Azriel’s undoing. 

He would cherish this, forever. No matter what happened in the future, he would always treasure Michael’s gift. With a loud growl, suddenly feel the possessive need take over within him, Azriel flipped them both, his wings curling up on either sides of them to cocoon the both of them protectively. It was then that Azriel took hold of Michael’s dripping cock and positioned it just where he wanted it.

Michael reached up to steady the fey’s hips as Azriel wasted no time in sliding down his thick cock. The act punched out a ragged curse from Michael’s lips, shuddering as he was suddenly enveloped in cool, wet, but tight quarters. As connected as he was with Azriel’s mind, he didn’t protest to this, to rushing through foreplay. Azriel needed him inside him, feeling almost desperate for it, and his body was ready for him - had been all day. Dark Elves loved foreplay, but in this situation, the fey currently starting to ride him with slow rolls of his hips needed this. Especially since the both of them were connected in more ways than one.

Apparently Dark Elves were built for sex in ways that humans could only begin to imagine. Their self lubrication was even superior to succubi or incubi. And though some races on Nirsa could jealously portray the darker fey as mindless blood and carnal sluts, Dark Elves took the jibes against their species as compliments. 

Wanting to assist, rather than just let the fey do all the work, Michael slowly sat up, feeling the cocoon of Azriel’s surrounding wings accommodate his motions with ease. He pulled Azriel into his arms then, again offering his throat for the fey to feed from. Azriel’s eyes were glowing so vibrant a blue that he almost could swear he saw swirls of stars in them. 

Azriel felt his fangs lengthen, and he leaned in, breathing in Michael’s scent, enjoying the feel of the human hybrid’s hands on his hair. What finally did him in, even as he rolled his hips just right, feeling Michael’s thick cock bumping up against his prostate, was when the dark ginger haired man touched his ears for the first time. 

The fey couldn’t help screaming out his bliss. His scream soon turned into a strangled roar, and with precise coldness, the fey struck true, his fangs sinking into Michael’s skin, right above his collar bone on the left side. Michael let out an answering roar, coming like a waterfall deep within Azriel’s ass.

Azriel didn’t stop moving his hips, his pace quickening. Michael managed to control enough of his faculties to tug the male more protectively up against him, arching his hips up to meet the fey’s frantic movements, his cock still spilling inside of the elf. Azriel fed, letting out erotic moans in ecstasy as Michael’s hot, delicious blood trickled down his throat, sating his bloodlust, and his hunger. Combined with the feel of Michael’s searing hot come coating his insides with thick pulses, the fey was enraptured with ecstasy. 

And yet, he still wanted more. _Much more._

Letting out a soft whine, Azriel pulled away from Michael’s neck and started running a hand down the trail of blood dripping from the man’s wounds. Michael watched, bemused as the fey essentially started coating the both of them with his blood, including Azriel’s cock, which was still leaking precome and looking flushed. Apparently the fey loved bathing in blood just as much as Michael did.

Reaching up to smear some blood across Azriel’s right breast, Michael leaned in to kiss the fey again, arching his hips with more powerful intensity despite now being over sensitive. Azriel closed his eyes and let out a wail as he came hard, cock spilling against both his chest and Michael’s, managing to squeeze another orgasm from the Antichrist in the process. Michael flopped back onto his back, Azriel’s wings curling around him and drenching his arms a bit in his own blood. Michael watched the gorgeous dark creature on top of him suddenly spread out his wings sending blood flying in all directions, coating walls, and a lot of other surfaces. 

Strangely enough, Michael’s laptop was left alone from the carnage.

Perhaps they should have done this in a bathtub or shower, but no matter. Michael knew how to make everything go back to normal spotless with just a flick of his wrist. Besides, it was nice to see Azriel so much freer, enjoying his baser needs and desires. Michael moaned softly when Azriel leaned forward to capture his lips, tasting blood and spices on his tongue. On impulse, Michael remembered just where Azriel had pierced his body, not just his nipples. Reaching down with one hand to stroke the fey’s come and blood covered cock, he pleasured Azriel to the point the male was almost puddy in his hands. And then he reached down further to roll the fey’s sensitive balls. Azriel rolled his hips at that, gasping out a ragged plea, “Ngh, Michael…. _Please…._ ”

Michael went further down and found that piercing, pressing upwards gently. The end result was Azriel screaming his head off, all candles and fire being blasted with snow and ice, and the fey coming hard again in thick white icy strips. Michael blinked a bit in shock before he whispered softly, “Fucking _**hell**_.”

Azriel whimpered and shuddered against Michael, the Antichrist’s cock still deep inside him. He caught Michael’s suddenly curious, but wicked look and he let out a broken mewl, “Michael…. I don’t know if I can do that.” With their minds connected, Azriel could also read Michael’s thoughts, but sparingly. What he had seen in the Antichrist’s mind was very kinky and a bit amusing, but he was so emotionally stimulated and wrecked right now. He wasn’t even sure if his body had the strength to do something like what Michael had in mind.

Michael snorted but kissed the fey gently, determination running through him. “I bet you can, and you shall.”

And he did.

Michael eased out of Azriel, which caused the fey to whine a bit at the loss and the Antichrist gently kissed the elf’s shoulder in response. He then coaxed the Dark Elf to lay beneath him again, this time on his stomach with his hips arched up like some mad dog in heat. Azriel definitely didn’t mind this position because he could relax and just take what Michael gave him at this point. His body was still going haywire over his last few orgasms, but Michael seemed up for anything, the machine. 

Michael took him from behind, careful not to completely squash the wings splayed out on Azriel’s back and the rest of the bed as he pressed his cock back inside the fey’s cool, wet, and tight entrance. Despite taking him so hard just now, Michael noted that Azriel’s ass was just as tight, which could be due to accelerated healing. 

Michael’s wounds on his neck had healed already, but the blood on his body and on Azriel’s was still thick and wet. Starting out at a slow pace, knowing that the fey beneath him was over sensitive right now, Michael let out a few ragged moans as he rolled his hips with firm, sure strokes, gripping Azriel’s hips to keep them stable. 

The smell of blood, sex, and ice was thick in the air, and Azriel just basked in it, allowing himself to be slowly pummeled into the mattress like some rabid prostitute. At that thought, Michael smacked his ass lightly in admonishment, not liking that Azriel had such a low self esteem. Nothing against prostitutes or their work, but Azriel was definitely not a sex worker, nor was he a slave to his desires. Azriel flushed and buried his face into a crook of his arm, his cock twitching at the feel of being spanked like that.

He knew he didn’t have much of a daddy kink, but there were times when punishment felt good. And he supposed Michael was the best person to doll out carnal punishment on him for now, considering. Michael snorted in mirth, but felt pleased that the fey even thought about that sort of thing. When Michael shifted slightly, Azriel let out a ragged moan, going completely boneless. 

Yep, Azriel’s brain was a pile of orgasmic goop now.

Michael grinned in jubilation, glad to have found Azriel’s prostate again. With renewed determination, he started aiming for that spot with each, powerful thrust. Reaching up to stroke one of Azriel’s wings while holding the fey still as he continued to pomel the elf into the mattress, Michael was as gentle he could be as he felt the silken webbing and scales. Azriel’s wing twitched and stretched underneath his fingers, and the fey ended up letting out a resulting aroused purr growl, sending chills up and down Michael’s spine, coming to pool into his dripping cock.

For a while, nothing was said, just moans, cries, and grunts filled the air along with the sound of their coupling. Azriel’s wings however withdrew soon and Michael watched them fade into tattoos on the fey’s back, and understood what this meant. Azriel was ready to be claimed completely now. And Michael could only oblige him as he collapsed onto the fey, his panting breaths teasing Azriel’s hair and back deliciously. Azriel tried to lift his hips, but he was so far gone, he couldn’t even manage that.

Michael growled lowly, pulling the fey up more into his arms and set a brutal, quicker pace, his cock aiming true against Azriel’s prostate. Then he proceeded to fuck Azriel’s brains out with a rougher, more violent pace, his teeth clamping down on a pale shoulder, the act drawing black blood to the surface. It was then Azriel knew that Michael was letting go, and it felt good to know in the haze of lust and desire that the Antichrist could do so without the threat of harming him. 

When Michael started coming, this time letting himself soar, he merged completely with Azriel’s mind, letting the fey see what he was feeling, and experiencing. The surge of red light that surrounded them was so dark it was almost black, and then with blinding pleasure, both reached a Nirvana in completion.

### 

When Azriel came to, he heard soft voices from nearby. One was Michael’s and the other was Ms. Mead from the sound of it. “He’s with me and I won’t allow anyone to harm him. Be careful, Ms. Mead. I don’t want Ms. Venable to turn on you.”

“She won’t. She has no idea about anything. That I know of. And I’ll make sure Mr. Davari is protected as much as possible. Thank you for telling me… everything,” Ms. Mead said softly, and Azriel could feel her eyes raking over his form. Michael had at least covered most of him with a blanket. The woman added with a wry smirk, “I knew I liked that boy the moment I first spotted him. He’ll be good for you. And you’ll be good for him. You only deserve the best.”

Although Azriel wasn’t shy about his body when it came to total strangers viewing it, he didn’t like being immodest in front of people he respected. He stretched uselessly and mewled in response, causing Ms. Mead to snicker softly. Trying to pull the sleep fog from his mind, it didn’t clear as much as he would like until Ms. Mead left and Michael was returning to bed, a delicious looking dark burgundy robe wrapped around him, exposing a bit of tantalizing clavicle. 

Blinking sleepily, the fey looked around, noting that the state of the room was much better than before. In fact, it looked like Michael had made the place completely spotless again. Not sure if it was still night or day, Azriel yawned and mumbled hoarsely, “What time is it?”

“About one in the morning, darling,” Michael purred silkily, untying his robe and letting it fall to drape over a chair before he came over to join Azriel in bed.

Azriel noted that the both of them were clean as were their sheets. “You’ve been busy,” Azriel said, reaching up to run his fingers over Michael’s shoulder. 

“A little bit. Ms. Mead came by to let me know that the plan is going along smoothly. Usually after she reports, I have her programmed to forget everything and go about as she is without any knowledge of me. But, this time around, I let her keep her memories and senses. I had to explain things a bit, but she now remembers.” Michael looked a bit troubled and if anything, a bit angry. “I guess I must have forgotten her nightly reports, but no matter. I am glad she came to me tonight."

“What is it?” Azriel asked gently, noting that Michael had withdrawn from his mind, but didn’t have his mental shields up yet. Respecting the Antichrist’s privacy, the fey simply waited, wondering what was wrong.

“Apparently Ms. Venable is thinking of killing Ms. Mead,” Michael stated calmly, though the fiery anger Azriel spotted in the Antichrist’s eyes was definitely the opposite. Michael was pissed.

“What? Why? Is she insane?” Azriel felt the questions fly out of his mouth before he could keep himself from it and swallowed, suddenly a bit wary.

Michael’s eyes softened as he regarded Azriel and he murmured, “It’s alright, Azriel. I know you haven’t seen me at my worst yet, and I hope that you never do. But, with this, it’s just a small worry, nothing more. And as for Ms. Venable, my guess is that she doesn’t trust anyone, not even Ms. Mead. I won’t know for sure until the morning comes. Regardless, Ms. Mead is aware and will protect herself accordingly should the need arise.”

Azriel nodded, accepting Michael’s explanation. “Is there anything I can do?”

The Antichrist smiled slightly and shook his head no. “Just stay safe. I would have to destroy the whole universe if something happened to you.” 

Azriel blushed and tried to think of something to say. Then he suddenly thought of something random, but would be a welcome distraction from the heavy words. If he couldn’t express his feelings with words, perhaps a gift would work. He had been wracking his brain for the past few days trying to come up with a good idea for a gift for Michael, to return some of his affections, and he’d finally figured one out. He just hoped the Antichrist liked it.

“I… um… I feel the same way for you Michael, and… um… since you gave me - fuck hell,” Azriel stuttered, causing Michael to snicker in amusement. “Oh shut up, _asshole_. I am trying to be romantic right now.”

Michael raised his eyebrows at that, but his expression sobered when Azriel gingerly sat up next to him and produced a small hand held box out of thin air. Michael sat up as well and looked at it questionably when the fey handed it over to him with a small smile. “For me?”

“Yes. You have been showering me with gifts, and I figured why not give you something in return?” Azriel explained, flushing a bit shyly when Michael took up the box from his hands reverently. “I normally try to give gifts that are useful to people, but I couldn’t help being a bit sentimental in this case.”

Michael looked at the box in his hands, feeling a bit overwhelmed all of a sudden. “You didn’t need to give me a gift, you’ve already given me plenty….”

Azriel arched a brow and reached up to rub his back soothingly. “I wanted to.”

The fey watched the Antichrist open up the black velvet box with a nervous agitation that was almost akin to some of Elfling children on the day of their birth when they got a random gift that they weren’t expecting. Michael swallowed thickly and tugged out Azriel’s gift. It was a silver blood vial pendant attached to black ties to create a necklace. The vial was full of black colored blood that was very cold to the touch.

“This is to lay over your heart while you are in battle, so you can have my blood close to you to cool you down. I know it’s not the same thing as me being right by your side, but I figured it would be a good thing to have just in case I cannot be with you all the time,” Azriel explained softly, watching the dark ginger haired man examine the vial as if it might break in his hands. “I also put some enchantments on it for protection, so it will help you heal faster if you do get injured. So I guess there is some actual use to it, not just sentimental.”

Michael was silent for one long moment, just looking at the necklace with a childlike fascination. Azriel felt a bit nervous and looked down at his fingers, not sure what to say now. A few minutes later he heard a few sniffles, and arching a brow, the fey was about to look up, but then he suddenly got thoroughly tackled by one emotional Antichrist. Michael pulled Azriel into his lap bodily, pressed his face into the fey’s chest and started bawling his eyes out. 

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up in shock, but then his eyes softened when Michael mumbled something like “No one has ever given me something special like this before” but the words were a mess in between sobs, hiccups, and muffled whimpers against his chest. Hell, no one had ever gotten him something like this? Then perhaps the Antichrist was very similar to him when it came to gifts as well. Azriel gave gifts, but he never got any back. Perhaps Michael had the same issue… at least with sentimental things.

Running his hands soothingly over Michael's head, hair, and back, Azriel let the man cry, not sure what else to do. Michael couldn’t stop the well of emotion overflowing him as he sobbed, his tears of pain, suffering, and sorrow, but also of joy, happiness, and understanding. Finally, after he had calmed down to a few sniffles, Michael pulled away and leaned up to kiss Azriel.

The fey kissed him and also wiped some of the lingering tears away from his face, pulling back to murmur, “Then I am happy I gave you it. Need help putting it on?”

Michael shook his head no, but he smiled in thanks. Pulling away for the most part, Michael secured the necklace around his neck and settled the cool pendant against his sternum. Leaning in, he kissed Azriel again, whispering softly, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Michael,” The fey responded, smiling in contentment that this gift went over so well, even if there was a totally different reaction than he’d been expecting.

### 

Once back under the covers and in each other’s arms, Azriel asked softly, “So, did you fucking me into the mattress cause a snow outbreak throughout the entire Outpost like you had thought it would?”

Michael let out a soft huff of laughter, causing Azriel to chuckle in spite of himself. Michael ran his fingers over the fey’s chest, idly rubbing a pierced nipple, but not wanting to arouse just yet so he kept his wandering hand going. “Yea, it actually killed a few people in their sleep.”

“Really?” Azriel asked, awed, and not one bit ashamed. “Which ones?”

“Two of the greys. They were in the coldest parts of the dormitories, but at least they went peacefully,” Michael stated dryly, letting out a soft laugh when Azriel rolled his eyes and huffed, disappointed. “Were you hoping it was someone else?”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t be surprised that they survived,” Azriel admitted, his mood lifting when Michael suddenly reached down to stroke his softened cock. Narrowing his eyes at Michael, he asked suspiciously, “Mr. Langdon, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Seduce? Now why would I do a silly thing like that?” Michael purred with a mock innocent tone, leaning in to capture Azriel’s lips to do just that.

“You are insatiable, for a human,” Azriel commented pointedly, but Michael knew the fey was thrilled by this. 

“Glad you approve,” Michael murmured with a small, smug smile. With a soft purr growl, Michael tugged Azriel up against him for more drugging, languid kisses, drowning himself in the fey’s welcoming embrace.

### 

Hours later, after the both of them had rested, Michael left Azriel to see to a few more things before coming back to make his final reports on his computer. The fey had gingerly got up, feeling like he’d had the best night of his life. His body was still sore from Michael’s attentions, but it would be fully healed in a few hours. A nice hot shower felt good on his tender skin and muscles, easing them up from being so stiff. Michael had promised him a massage for later and the fey was definitely going to hold the Antichrist to it.

While Azriel was in the shower, Michael returned with the fey’s snake following him in his wake, her slithering quiet on the smooth floor. Apparently Nil had decided to come find her master that morning when Azriel hadn’t returned. Michael smirked slightly as he watched the snake slither into the slightly cracked door to the bathroom. Though Michael had created her from his own flesh and blood, the creature was definitely coming into her own with her own thoughts, desires, and feelings. She was highly protective of Azriel, though she also didn’t see Michael as a threat. 

He was almost surprised that the snake hadn’t strangled Coco to death yet, but then again, Azriel didn’t take Nil with him at all times. Perhaps the snake had no clue about the goings on in the Outpost for now. Plus, Nil was barely an adolescent snake. She would grow to be an adult in a matter of weeks considering she was not a normal snake, but she was still a bit vulnerable right now. 

It was best for her to stay with Azriel for the time being until she was fully grown. Even after, should the fey decide to take her with him when going back to Nirsa, the snake would make a good companion and would be loyal. Michael huffed out a soft sigh, trying not to think about what was going to happen once Azriel contacted his sire. He knew it was highly selfish of him to think about trying to work around Azriel’s sire. The Dark Elven King was not one to double cross, and Michael would rather not have Azriel be put in danger just because of his own selfish ambitions. 

Strange, how just a small amount of days had caused Michael to leech onto Azriel. Yes, he knew without a doubt that he’d have to kill the fey should Azriel do something unthinkable and betray him or try to harm him or get in the way of his plans, but he was starting to understand that the fey was special. The thought of killing such a gorgeous and ruthless creature made Michael want to do things he shouldn’t. Ms. Mead had often told him that he had a big heart. And because he did, he often got hurt easy. It was both a strength and a weakness. 

It was why, when Azriel had given him the necklace last night, it had shattered him to the core. The Antichrist had spoken truth when he had told Azriel the night before that no one had ever given him such a thing. Oh yes, several people had given him their lives, even their souls willingly, and had done terrible things for him. Madelyn and Ms. Mead had been instrumental in giving him places to stay with warm hugs and undeniable devotion. Even his own grandmother and the warlock school had not given him such things. 

But, then Azriel had freely given him something that was sentimental, something pure and dear, without fear and not for any hidden agenda to be gained. The fey had just wanted to give him something, just like Michael had wanted to shower Azriel with gifts. Gifts that were small but touched the soul or the heart in big ways. Michael had seen others do the same for their loved ones, but even as a child living under his grandmother’s care, he’d never been given something like this. 

His grandmother had figured that gifts around Christmas or even his Birthday were too frivolous for her taste, so she would just end up taking him to the zoo or go shopping for clothes. Toys, games, he had those but they were older, more hand me down from his birth father and perhaps his siblings. Despite his grandmother kicking him out of her house and ending up killing herself, he still loved her. Her betrayal had hurt so much.

But, regardless, if there was one thing that Michael was beginning to understand about Azriel, is that once the fey gave over his loyalty, he gave it for life. Michael was ever more anxious to find a way to get Azriel’s soul, but not to keep it. For once in his life, Michael understood what he really wanted. His goals were still big, and he would continue to follow his father’s guidance to reach those goals, but he was also going to find a way to release Azriel from his prison.

No creature as beautiful as Azzy should be caged and leashed. The fey had been able to buy his freedom, but only superficially. He was only as free as his sire wished him to be. Yes, the fey could go places and do things without his sire bearing down on his back, but in the end, he had to return to his master, to his sire. The fey had no choice.

The uncertainty of what his sire might decide to do was frustrating Michael, and making him nervous. In a way, he felt almost like he had been four years ago, not sure where he needed to go or what to do to bring Ms. Mead back. One thing was for certain however, if Azriel’s sire decided to try and separate both himself and the fey, Michael wouldn’t stand for it. He would raze hell all over again, just in a different world just to keep Azriel. 

With that thought in mind, Michael pulled his mind from his dark thoughts and reached down to rub his chest where Azriel’s necklace was hidden behind his vest and dress shirt. With a small huff, Michael sat down at his desk, pulling up his laptop, trying to concentrate on the bigger picture for now. 

Everything was set in motion. All that was left now was to wait and see how things progressed.

And Michael was way more patient than he had been when he was younger.

### 

As Azriel was washing his hair, he sensed the presence of Michael returning, as well as Nil. He snickered quietly when he spotted the slightly bigger snake slithering into the bathroom to somehow get up into the sink. “Well hello to you, too,” Azriel murmured softly, pausing in his personal grooming to look at how big the snake had grown.

“You didn’t eat Ms. Coco, did you?” When the snake just tasted the air with her tongue in response, Azriel rolled his eyes in mock disappointment. “Yea, yea, I know she has power, but she’s also a royal annoying bitch. Then again, she could be spelled that way, though I have met some rather unsavory irritating characters in my life.” He could definitely think of one male dark elf back home that was always entitled and snotty.

Prince Ralkai was definitely irritating, but at least he hated everyone so he was nasty to everyone, including his father. Spoiled, rude, and jealous of everyone, Ralkai was definitely a nasty person Azriel didn’t like being in the presence of. Thankfully, the king was smart enough to know his son’s moods and kept the two from being in each other’s presence much. Social functions if both fey were forced to attend, and random meetings were the only time the two crossed each other’s paths. 

Azriel didn’t want to have to try and compare Ralkai with Coco. He’d be hard pressed to decide which one was the worst out of the two when it came to shallowness and moody tempers. 

Once done with his shower, Azriel towel dried himself off and absently rubbed Nil’s scales as the snake got out of the way for him to use the sink. Though Azriel never needed to shave, he did like to put ointment on his hair to keep it from horrible split ends. Humans had no idea how lucky they were with their hair not being as sensitive as a fey’s. Split ends felt like broken needles of nerve endings to Azriel and as long as he kept putting ointment on his hair and took care of it, as well as feeding properly, then it was healthy and happy.

After dressing and leaving the bathroom, he noted that Michael was typing away on his laptop, a scowl of concentration marring his features. Not wanting to bug the Antichrist, Azriel went to head back to his rooms to contact his sire. Michael looked up from what he was doing and assumed, “Contacting your sire?”

“Yes, I am. I thought the both of us could use some privacy until midday. You said that things wouldn’t happen until tonight so -” Azriel faltered when he noticed how distracted Michael looked. “Is everything alright, Michael?”

“Yes. Forgive me, my attention was pulled away just now. My father wishes to speak with me,” Michael said, feeling the delicious summons rake down his back. 

Azriel arched a brow, but then nodded. “I will leave you to it, then.”

“Thank you. Azzy….” Michael said softly, standing up and walking over to the fey, who looked a bit nervous. “I’ll come for you at midday. Be safe until then. Please.”

“Ok,” Azriel murmured, leaning in as Michael touched his face tenderly. “Same goes for you.”

Michael tugged the fey to him, kissing him gently, emotions splaying over his face, betraying his apprehension to Azriel in the process. Suddenly understanding, Azriel touched Michael’s face and murmured, “Whatever happens, we will deal with it accordingly.” When Michael simply nodded, gathering his emotions behind a colder facade, Azriel whispered, “I must go.”

As the fey left, Michael watched him go, now more determined than ever to get this new addition to his plans underway. 

He just hoped that his father would grant him this. Satan seemed to be accepting of Azriel’s addition in his life. But, for how long remained to be seen. One could never know what went on in his father’s head, except for God if there was one, and Satan himself. 

With more determination thick in his mind, Michael left to go to a ritual chamber, finding it kind of ironic that he was once again contacting his father so soon after the last discussion. He could always ignore the summons and go listen in on Azriel as the fey talked with his sire, but Michael wasn’t stupid. If he ever got caught, there would be hell to pay, and plus, one did not ignore Satan’s summons for long.

Michael may be privileged, but he was also a pawn in his father’s grand scheme.


	7. The Mystery Continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you those of you have taken the time to kudos and comment. It definitely helps me write. Please continue with the kudos and comments because honestly, I want to see if the AHS Apocalypse fandom is still out there! Also it helps to know one's work is appreciated :) 
> 
> Hope you like this chapter! Also! Fanvideo below was put together by me. All clips are from AHS Apocalypse and the model Luterone (Alazar Maevsky)'s VK and YouTube channels. Music is Play With Fire by The Birthday Massacre. Art, moodboard title were done by me as well. Enjoy.

[Play With Fire](https://vimeo.com/312667419) from [Groffiction](https://vimeo.com/shaygroffersgroffiction) on [Vimeo](https://vimeo.com).

 

“Sire, I have completed my mission….” Azriel tensed as his sire let out a soft hum in response. Moving on before he lost his courage and acted a fool, Azriel said, “I have secured diplomatic relations and have the treaty signed. However, during all this, the Antichrist has come to respect my thoughts and suggestions. He has requested that I stay with him for a time as a continued liaison advisor between our worlds and perhaps more.”

Silence.

Azriel waited and tried to keep calm and devoid of his rising nervousness. Anxiety had never been so much of a hurdle to handle as it was now. Forcing himself to keep still and respectful, as was ingrained into his entire being, Azriel licked his lips a bit and kept quiet.

“You are no mere advisor, my child. You are a _warrior,_ trained and molded by your own strengths as well as circumstances of your life under my care. You, above all others are my most trusted of my army,” King Davrin rumbled silkily, his voice never failing to inspire loyalty and pride. 

_There's a 'but’ coming. I know it._ Azriel couldn't help that thought running through his head. From experience, King Davrin often praised his subjects before sinking in the knife. It was a good move to soften the blows, and Azriel knew that it also gave people a false sense of hope before falling flat on their face with their ears ringing of cruel rebuke. 

King Davrin was a silver tongued individual. He'd had eons to perfect his verbal manipulative skills. Though cruel and malicious the dark elven king was, he also held absolute loyalty of his people. And it wasn't just because people had no choice but to obey him or die a horrible death, it was because he inspired, he had charisma, and he was highly intelligent. Everything he did was calculated and plotted with plans no one ever understood until they unfolded or were completed. 

When his wife had been alive, King Davrin had been perhaps a bit softer, but no less ruthless and cunning.

Now, the dark elf had no softness to speak of outside of his normal ethereal elven beauty and deceptively soothing voice. 

The last person who betrayed the king had been made of as an example, torqued burned skeleton crafted into his throne, soul trapped for eternity, slowly being drained for centuries before the elf's dark magic eventually sucked the soul dry into a husk of damnation. 

With that thought in mind, Azriel grew more firm in his loyalty and resolve and patiently waited for the other foot to drop.

His patience paid off after a few moments of silence. King Davrin murmured softly, “And yet, I never expected you to _seduce_ the Antichrist. Oh, child, I know _all_ about his lust and need for you.”

Azriel flushed, but refused to be embarrassed by his intimate relationship with the Antichrist. Apparently the Oracle had told King Davrin quite a bit since his last report. 

When Azriel finally felt it was safe to speak, he whispered, “Please forgive me for not consulting you once things became more intimate. I had presumed perhaps wrongly that you would not be interested in that sort of thing. I only have loyalty to you, my sire, and I figured it would improve relations with Mr. Langdon. If you wish it of me to cease, I will do so.”

Again silence. But, Azriel didn't have to wait long until his sire spoke again.

“That will not be necessary, Azriel. Perhaps I should have listened more to the Oracle in this case. They had warned me that the Antichrist might become attached to you. I simply believed you would of course complete your mission successfully as per your usual status quo. But, I suppose I have underestimated your willingness to display your loyalty to our kin. Getting close to the Antichrist has its benefits, I'm sure.” King Davrin went on, “You may continue, however do tell the Antichrist that I will eventually wish to have my most loyal subordinate back.”

“I will, sire. He even has suggested that if you wished me to return to your side that he would understand and ask permission to join me in visiting Nirsa so he could meet with you in person,” Azriel stated carefully, knowing now was not the time to go jumping for joy like some random earthen monkey.

“Did he now?” King Davrin sounded a bit amused by this, but not surprised.

“Indeed, sire.”

“Well done, Azriel. I suppose I'll have to add 'temptor’ to your list of titles. If he wishes to join you on your return and all is still well in our treaty parameters, then that will be acceptable.” 

“Thank you, sire. I will be sure to advise him of your decision.”

“One more thing, Azriel.”

 _Here we go. I knew it._ Azriel braced himself, on edge but still accepting should his punishment be severe. Swallowing carefully, Azriel murmured softly, “Yes, sire?”

“Get even closer to him. I want the Antichrist wrapped around your fingers, and therefore mine by extension. However, take care to guard your heart. If you perhaps...fall for him, know this, if he goes against me, I will have him killed, either by your hand or I will do it myself in front of you. And then, I will make you wish for death. However death will not save you. I have your soul and I know all too well how to give it endless pain and suffering. Never forget that.” King Davrin's voice was like ice,and though a master of the cold as he was, Azriel couldn't help feeling it's bite and razor sharp promise. It wasn't long before he felt an invisible chain wrapping around his throat, ripping his breath away with intense pain.

The elf gasped for breath and whimpered but did not try to fight it as his soul was practically choked to the point of agony.

King Davrin released him a painful moment later, gently petting the tormented elf's hair with an invisible hand. The king purred softly, his voice turning soft, but somehow deadlier, “You _are_ my most loyal subordinate. But, even the most loyal have weaknesses. Don't make me break your spirit, my son. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sire,” Azriel rasped out brokenly, falling to his hands in front of him as the connection ceased.

### 

“Father, you called me?” Michael quested, kneeling naked and covered in his own blood once again in the center of a pentagram. “I have done everything you have wished of me. Everything is proceeding according to plan. My work here is almost done. I am not sure what will happen once we leave here, but as you allowed, Azriel and my fates are now intertwined.”

Depending on the conversation or perhaps even the intent behind Satan’s commands, sometimes Michael did not need to do such things to communicate with his father. If the matter was small and less significant, then he would receive word from his father’s demons. In this instance, Satan seemed to want to speak to him directly, so it must be of great importance.

Michael waited for a few minutes, trembling a bit, as he always did when his father finally started connecting with him. His blood creating the pentagram around him was soon bubbling and he let out a soft gasp as images flashed in his line of vision. He saw flashes of war, great armies battling on a wasteland valley surrounded by broken remains of great cities - greater than Earth’s had been. Michael could practically taste the rancid scent of spilled blood, smoke, fire, and ice. Ash fell from the sky and he reveled in the feeling of death and the suffering surrounding him. But, then he spotted Dark Elves fighting beside him, with him, allowing him to lead against monstrous beings - more deadly than any of Hell’s demons could conjure. 

And then as victory was nigh, Michael turned to his side, noting Azriel stood there next to him, garbed in shimmering black and red armor, his soul swirling from within him and enveloping him in a halo of ice blue light. White hair swirling behind him, the fey looked magnificent, fangs bared and bloody, eyes glittering with fierce determination, fists clenched at his sides, one hand grasping a sword, while the other held the girth of a black blood drenched whip. 

Suddenly another flash went through and the battle scene faded and was replaced by another vision. He was now in a great fortress, surrounded by his father’s demons and Dark Elven soldiers. As he stepped into the black marble great hall before him, he spotted a tall fine black garbed ruler, long black hair cascading down his shoulders and back, elven ears peeking through the soft looking tresses. When the Dark Elfking turned to look at him, Michael caught his black slitted crimson gaze. Slowly, the king smiled evilly, soft, full lips breaking to show white fangs. Cape flowing down around him, the king bowed before he pointed to a tomb placed in the center of the room.

Finding himself feeling a bit of trepidation, even though he was, of course, a master of death, Michael made his way to the tomb. With trembling hands, Michael reached down and opened the lid to the ornate casket. There he saw someone who looked very much like Azriel, but wasn’t him. This elf was female, her body garbed in black robes of splendor and grandeur. Simple, but priceless silver jewelry graced her arms, fingers, throat, and ears, and a small red tattoo in the shape of a dragon with it’s wings spread above to catch a star was etched into the middle of her forehead. Her scent was like Azriel’s.

Was this Azriel’s mother? But if so, why was she not human? Had Azriel lied to him?

No, Azriel had been truthful when stating he had been a human slave before being turned by King Davrin. Or at least… he had told him what he believed to be true.

 _A lie. Azriel has been told a lie all this time._ Rage filled Michael’s being, but he pushed it away, knowing that he needed to pay attention to what his father was trying to tell him.

He could concentrate on personal vendettas later.

“Who is she, father? If she is Azriel’s mother, then where can I find her so I can secure his and my position in your plan of the future for Nirsa?” Michael asked, falling to his knees and letting the vision immerse him in a deeper sense.

A new Dark Elf came out of the shadows then, long black hair flowing down his back and a deep set hatred plastered all over his fair face. Garbed like the King in black fine clothing, the fey came to stand near the tomb, rage and jealousy etched into his entire being. Slowly, the fey looked up to view the King as the great elf turned to look away and once it seemed he would not be observed, the angry fey stabbed Azriel’s mother in the heart.

With a grim smirk on his face, the fey wiped the blade’s pommel with a cloth, making sure not to leave evidence of his fingerprints on it. He then left with the smirk turning into a pleased, malicious grin, his footsteps silent as he exited the room.

As the man disappeared, the stabbed fey woman in the tomb whispered a single word, “Ralkai.”

Letting out a deep, shaky breath, the visions ended, bringing Michael back to the Outpost. He blinked and shivered, rubbing his arms absently. “Ralkai,” He tested the name on his tongue, noting that it rolled off of it fluidly, almost like oil. _So, I guess I must find this Ralkai and either end his life or force him to open a portal to Nirsa’s hell in order to find Azriel’s mother. **Wonderful.**_

That didn’t sound too hard.

Not one _bit._

At least his father seemed inclined to help him in this, so for that, he calmly thanked Satan for the message and went to go clean up. 

As he was bathing, muddling through the message over and over in his head, he finally remembered why Ralkai seemed so familiar. He had an uncanny resemblance to the King, and though he hadn’t viewed much of Azriel’s memories before he’d been requested to stop pressing the night before, Michael did remember this particular elf as being one very spoiled brat of an individual. He perhaps could commend the male for taking care of business in his own way, taking out a person in his way. Still, if he annoyed and tormented Azriel to no end, then that made him a potential enemy in Michael’s book.

That however, only left more questions. 

It was obvious that Ralkai had hated Azriel’s mother, but the question of why was very puzzling. Also, where had Azriel been during this time? The woman had literally bled and smelled of royalty. So if she had been in fact the King’s wife, like he assumed she was, then why all the secrecy? Why all the deception on Azriel? 

And why, if this woman had been the Queen of Nirsa, had Azriel been stripped of his memories and given a new identity with false memories?

With a growl, Michael punched the wall of the shower, causing it to crack in several places. With a soft sigh, feeling a bit ashamed at letting his confusion and frustration take over him, he repaired the wall with a thought and finished his shower.

At least his father had given him a few answers in order to help him out.

He would just have to unlock a few more pieces to find out more of the puzzle that was Azriel. One thing had been certain, if the vision held true and all that Michael strived for was conquered, then he would be not just a ruler of Earth, he’d become a ruler of Nirsa as well. Or perhaps a highly respected counterpart to the King.

He just had to figure out how to get there.

For now, he would have to bide his time and continue with the massacre tonight. Once he was finished here, and perhaps the rest of the Outposts, then he would be able to travel to Nirsa with Azriel by his side. Or, if King Davrin felt that Azriel was needed back at his side sooner rather than later, then he would make the trip to the dark realm accordingly.

With that thought in mind, Michael dressed, and prepared himself mentally and physically for his plot for this Outpost to come to fruition.

### 

_Too bad Dark Elves can only get drunk on blood,_ Azriel thought with a deep sigh. He had recovered mostly from his ordeal with his sire from earlier, but he still had a slight tremble in his hands and his throat was still a bit sore.

He hadn’t felt something like that sort of punishment in a long time. But, perhaps it was needed considering Azriel had acted on the outside lining of his orders. And he didn’t blame the King for reminding him just who Azriel served. Though not an often occurrence, the King did have his fair share of betrayals from his inner court. Most of the time when those things did happen, the King handled it personally and effectively.

But, Azriel was definitely not one of those who would even think of betraying his sire. He was comfortable being a soldier in the King’s army, and was content with living as he did. Regardless, he was not angry, nor disappointed with his sire for tightening his fist earlier. A ruler like King Davrin hadn’t ruled for over several millennia without a reason.  
Plus, who was he to judge the King?

Afterall, the King had allowed him to buy his freedom. Yes, he still had Azriel’s soul, but the fey hadn’t really cared much for not having his soul for a while now. It had been so long since he’d felt his soul even remotely close to his body that he was quite used to it being gone. The only time it bothered him was when he spotted others of the Dragon Elves with their souls shining brightly through their auras or their soul forehead tattoos. Then, he would feel a bit of the aching loss.

But, then he would remember what the King had done for him.

In fact, it hadn’t been until Michael had entered his life that he had even thought about his soul in several years. Michael, who was so full of darkness and seduction, his soul damaged but strong and intimately connected with death and resurrection. 

Indeed, perhaps it was smart on King Davrin’s part to give some clarity to Azriel’s situation and his orders.

He just wasn't so keen about feeling like shit afterwards.

With a soft sigh, Azriel took up one of the dark spell books Michael had left for him to read. He'd found it on his pillow once he'd returned from the Antichrist's rooms. At least he had something to occupy his time with for a few hours while he waited. Noon couldn't come soon enough, but Azriel was a patient individual. He could wait. 

Settling in a chair with Nil coiled up in his lap, Azriel absently stroked her scales gently while he opened the book in front of him.

### 

A soft knock at his door roused Azriel from the depths of the book. He was nearly finished with it and pushed away his annoyance at being interrupted. Still, he closed the book and put it quickly in his pack for later - just in case the Antichrist wanted to leave tonight after the poison apples took care of the rest of the inhabitants destined for slaughter in the Outpost. Absently whispering a spell to turn Nil into a living and breathing but dormant tattoo near Mursith's on his forearm, wanting to keep her safe, the fey stood and headed to the door. Wrinkling his nose to the smell of fresh, washed off spilled blood, Azriel opened the door to admit Michael.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to Michael's way of contacting Satan, but he pushed those thoughts away as he looked over the human hybrid standing before him. Dressed in black from head to toe in stylish old world clothing, the Antichrist looked delicious, and unharmed. 

Catching Michael's searing blue gaze, he smiled a bit, murmuring, “Everything-” he was broken off by lips suddenly on his, swallowing his words.

Well _ok_ then.

Michael couldn't help himself. After the puzzling last few hours nearly driving himself mad with plots and planning, the Antichrist needed to feel a sane and level headed individual in his embrace. Plus, Azriel smelled good and tasted even better, his cool lips giving him a sense of calm before a storm. It helped settle his nerves, but only temporarily. 

He pulled away slowly, reaching up to run his fingers tenderly through Azriel's hair. However, instead of leaning into his touch, the feet flinched slightly and tried to cover the fact. Worry suddenly hit him like a punch to the gut. Azriel offered him a slight smile, but it didn't ease his mind. 

“What happened? Did someone hurt you, and if so, who do I need to torture slowly before ending their pathetic existence?” Michael asked with a dangerously soft voice, his fingers moving to rub the fey's shoulders soothingly.

“I'm ok, Michael. My sire was pleased. More than pleased with my - our progress, and therefore he has granted me longer time to stay in this world by your side. He did tell me though to let you know that eventually I'll need to return to him, and that he does not mind if you wish to come visit as well,” Azriel deflected, not wanting Michael to get too upset with his king. That would not do well at all.

Michael narrowed his eyes and searched Azriel's gaze for a long moment before he looked down and spotted something. The Antichrist scowled as fury started to settle in his veins. Reaching up, Michael carefully pushed away Azriel's hair and tugged down a bit of his tunic. 

Azriel swallowed hesitantly, and tried hard not to flinch when the Antichrist touched his throat gingerly. He didn't have to look in a mirror to know that his sire had bruised his soul’s neck and therefore bruised his fey one as well. 

“If he was pleased with you and has done this to you, I would hate to see it when he's pissed. Why hurt you if he was pleased?” Michael asked, still dangerously calm. It would do no good frightening Azriel or worse, make him feel the need to protect his sire. 

When Azriel licked his lips and tried to avoid Michael's infuriated eyes, the Antichrist sighed deeply and murmured, “Relax, Azzy. I'm not about to go into Nirsa and obliterate your king because of this, as much as I'd like to.” _Yet_ , Michael thought before reassuring the trembling fey in front of him, “You need not fear my fury. I'm just trying to understand why a king feels the need to harm one of his most loyal subjects.”

“I-he...he wanted to be sure I wouldn't stray from his side. He wanted to remind me where my loyalties are. Nothing more. In fact, I was surprised he did not punish me for acting on my own outside the parameters of my mission by becoming intimately involved with you,” Azriel explained haltingly. “There have been times in the past where loyal members of his court have betrayed his trust. Believe me when I say that this was just a warning, nothing more. If he truly wanted to hurt me, he could have done a lot more damage.”

Michael unfortunately had to admit to himself that King Davrin had every right to tighten his fist around Azriel's throat. Satan had also done the same to his own most loyal subjects in the past. He could not deny that he, himself had done this sort of thing to his own servants when they tried testing their boundaries much like willful children. 

But, to see the fey bruised like this invoked such possessive fury within him. It was a tough pill to swallow, and one he must until a later date. If and when he traveled to Nirsa, then perhaps he could enact his revenge, but not until Azriel's soul was safe. Until then, he would have to bide his time and be patient. 

Leaning down to kiss the slowly fading finger like bruise marks on Azriel's throat, he wrapped his arms around the fey's body and drew him close. Azriel let out a deep sigh and finally relaxed, opting to reach up and return Michael's embrace. 

That had been a close call. If Michael had become a threat to his sire, he'd be forced to kill the Antichrist, or die trying. He was beginning to wonder if he could, in fact, survive in a world without Michael in it. Pushing those dark thoughts away, Azriel murmured, “At least he did not forbid me from being with you. And he is allowing me more time in your world by your side. That accounts for something, doesn't it?”

“Indeed it does,” Michael agreed, pulling away to look at Azriel's eyes. The Antichrist still seethed with anger but it was much more manageable. He was almost half tempted to just slaughter everyone in the Outpost with his own bare hands before fucking Azriel up against a wall, but he'd never been a fan of getting his hands dirty.

It was way more enjoyable manipulating others to do his dirty work for him. 

So, he would wait for a little while longer, and let the poison apples plan unfold.

### 

Michael gently kissed Azriel's lips, and the fey reveled in his taste, touch, and scent for a bit longer before he pulled away. The Antichrist cupped his face tenderly before he asked softly, “Are you ready?”

Azriel didn't have to ask as to what the human hybrid was referring to. He nodded with a small smirk. “Yes.” 

It would be nice not to have to worry about Ms. Coco or any of the others. Yes some of the humans seemed innocent but this was Michael's kingdom. He would do what he wished in his own lands. And Azriel couldn't wait to see all of Michael's well thought out plans come to fruition. 

“Excellent,” Michael said, an evil smug grin taking over his face. He still looked miffed but not as bad. 

Azriel had to admit, Michael being so protective and possessive over him, angry for him, made the fey feel all sorts of turned on. Conflicted as well, but he couldn't help but find Michael absolutely breathtaking when angry. He just hoped that he never had to witness being on the receiving end of his fury.

Watching Michael get vengeful and angry at others in his defense was one thing, having the Antichrist pissed at Azriel was another.

Michael withdrew and beckoned the fey to follow him out of Azriel's room. Straightening his spine, Azriel put on a mask of indifference on his face, breathing shallowly as the numerous smells of human blood cloyed at his senses. Feeding the night before had been an excellent choice, though no doubt once blood had been spilled Azriel might feel a bit thirsty. 

As they made their way to Michael's rooms, they encountered one determined Ms. Venable, though the Antichrist was firm in his declination of joining the party festivities planned for tonight. When Ms. Venable scowled a bit and turned to ask him if he wanted to join, Azriel also politely declined much to her consternation.

Both Michael and Azriel had to keep from chuckling as the woman marched away from them, down the stairs to enter the library. Good riddance. Once inside Michael's room, Azriel asked softly, “Now we wait?”

“Now we wait,” Michael stated with a small snicker.

“Do you mind if I read a bit more to pass the time?” Azriel sat down on Michael’s bed, absently reaching down to tug out a scale from his arm, resizing that into the form of the Antichrist’s book. “This book you are allowing me to read is quite fascinating and I am almost finished with it.”

“By all means, amuse yourself with it’s contents. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on it once you are done. As it is, while you read, I am going to need to finish up a few more reports to send off to the Sanctuary, so I’ll be a bit busy until that’s done,” Michael stated dryly, heading over to his desk to open his laptop. “The work of the Antichrist is never done.”

“Though I can’t imagine what that must be like, I do understand the need to finish things properly and efficiently. I will make sure not to be too distracting,” Azriel said with a small smirk, opening up the book in his hands to where he left off.

Michael chuckled softly at that last comment as he sat down. Turning to give Azriel a wry knowing grin, he allowed, “Perhaps if we get done with our current activities sooner rather than later, we might have time for you to be a distraction for me.”

“I like your thinking,” Azriel admitted, huffing softly as he got engrossed in his reading. Every once in a while, when he turned a page or two, he would glance up to look at Michael’s back, the Antichrist’s fingers deftly tapping away at his laptop’s keys.

Then, he would let out a silent sigh and continue reading.

Just who actually was going to be a distraction?

### 

After finishing the book, Azriel put it on Michael’s nightstand and settled in to rest, closing his eyes. He felt safe and content with Michael still typing away, the taps slightly soothing in the quiet of the room. The fey fell asleep soon after, the lull too easy in pulling him under.

Michael paused in his typing as soon as he heard the fey’s breathing evening out. Turning to look over his shoulder fondly at the creature curled up on his bed, he regarded him for a long few minutes, allowing his brain to rest for a bit. Soon, he turned back to his work and was almost finished when he heard people start gathering downstairs in the dining area for their last dinner. Though he still had a pretty good spell up preventing anyone from hearing what went on in this room, he could still hear the others in the Outpost and knew exactly where each and every one of them were located.

Perhaps that was a bit creepy, but he couldn’t help the gifts his father had bestowed upon him.

He’d ceased caring just how different he was to the normal human population a long time ago. 

Standing and stretching, he figured he’d finished most of what he’d wanted to for the evening. Might as well wake Azriel and have a bit of conversation or distraction before the massacre began downstairs. Crawling onto the bed carefully, not wanting to disturb the resting elf just yet, the Antichrist estimated that they still had another hour or two before Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead started murdering people. Finally, tugging the fey warrior into his arms, smirking a bit when the fair creature mewled in response, but didn’t waken, Michael sighed softly and opted to rest as well.

Today had been long, and though he was refreshed from speaking with his father, excitement and pent up frustration over future plans not just for tonight was taking their toll. It seems as though Azriel was feeling just as fatigued as he was, but perhaps for other completely different reasons. 

A few minutes later, Azriel stirred in Michael’s arms, and the Antichrist opened his eyes and looked down at the fey snuggled in his arms like a koala bear. Black slitted blue eyes were revealed to him as Azriel woke fully, blinking his eyelids a bit in the dim candlelight of the room. Michael reached down and carded his fingers through Azriel’s hair and was relieved when the fey didn’t flinch this time. 

“What time is it?” Azriel asked, stretching a bit and yawning.

Michael let out a soft sigh and leant down to give the drowsy elf a slow kiss. 

Apparently, they still had some time if Michael was indulging like this. Azriel returned the kiss and deepened it, reaching up to run his hands through Michael’s hair and down his back. The human hybrid hummed softly and moved to cage the fey, hovering over him more fully. Azriel arched a delicate eyebrow when Michael pulled away from his lips after a long, satisfying moment. Michael murmured, “I’ve had you several times last night and this morning, and I still haven’t gotten my fill of you yet. Somehow, I don’t think I will ever tire of you.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Azriel teased, but secretly he was pleased. Running his fingers over Michael’s shoulders that were regrettably still clothed, he pondered his own desire for the man hovering over him protectively. 

“Yes, very bad,” Michael said with mock seriousness before he reached down to cup Azriel’s groin, enjoying the sharp gasp his attention caused the fey. “But, I am a fan of bad.”

“Good, because so am I,” Azriel admitted, drawing Michael down for another kiss.

Distractions were wonderful things at times.

### 

A few pleasurable hours later, once the two had sated themselves in eachother’s arms and had once again cleaned up, both tensed when they heard the first of the dying chokes and screams coming from the waning populace of the Outpost. Michael stiffened and slowly stood, murmuring softly, “It has begun.”

“So it has,” Azriel concurred, absently taking out one of his daggers to make ready, just in case it was needed.

“I don’t suppose I have to tell you to be careful, do I?” Michael asked with a small smirk playing on his lips. “Humans can be idiots, but dangerous idiots at times.”

“Tell me about it,” Azriel deadpanned, adding with a snicker, “I think that’s a staple for all creatures, human or no. There’s always a few in the bunch that make the others look incredibly stupid.”

“Very much so,” Michael agreed.

Further conversation was stilted when the screams of the dying faded into silence. Azriel could no longer hear any heart beats except for Ms. Venable’s normal heart and Ms. Mead’s thrumming battery powered one. He could now hear the souls of the departed, stuck in this place, full of confusion and anger. It wouldn’t be long now before they were confronted by Ms. Venable. 

Or… perhaps not?

They both tensed slightly when they heard Ms. Mead’s gun go off. Azriel was about to stand, but Michael stayed him gently on the leg with one hand. “Wait for a bit longer. Ms. Mead is not hurt, I do not think.”

“Good,” Azriel murmured. Heaven help Ms. Venable if she ever harmed a hair on Ms. Mead. If Michael didn’t make mince meat out of the vindictive bitch, Azriel would make sure the woman wished she was dead.

Listening a bit, Azriel smiled when he heard Ms. Venable’s last dying breath escape her lips. He shared a relieved and pleased look with Michael. It wasn’t long after that they stood and went to join Ms. Mead, who was coming up the stairs to greet them. 

“It is done, Michael.” Ms. Mead bestowed them both with a broad smile before embracing first Michael, and then Azriel, who flushed and patted her back awkwardly. “Hail Satan.”

“Not quite, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Michael murmured before he gestured for the three of them head downstairs to view the carnage. The Antichrist squeezed Azriel’s hand comfortingly before moving to dispense with the trapped souls. The fey breathed shallowly and fought against his urge to retch at the horrible smell coming from the lounge. Being on the battlefield, Azriel never had much of an urge to purge his stomach, no matter the smells that rose from rotting corpses or anything of the like. 

But, for some reason, the stench coming from the lounge was a bit much. It had been a very good idea feeding the night before, otherwise he would have had a desire to both retch and feast on the blood nearby. He normally would have been interested in watching Michael dispense with all the souls, but since his stomach was a bit on edge, he stayed outside of the room near the stairs with Ms. Mead, who kept sneaking in concerned looks at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice.

She finally asked softly, “How are you holding up, kid?”

Azriel shrugged in response. At her firm, no nonsense motherly look, he sighed and admitted, “The smell is a bit too ripe for my senses. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if Ms. Coco didn’t bathe herself in perfume.”

“Ah, ok, makes sense,” Ms. Mead mused with a sympathetic smile. She patted his arm gently and added, “Well, I don’t think we’ll have to suffer through all this - nasty smells or otherwise - for much longer. Depending on where Michael wants to go next, I am sure even radiated air would smell better to you than this place.”

 _Thank the stars for Ms. Mead,_ Azriel thought fondly. Aloud he affirmed, “Indeed, it probably will be so. At least out there I could feel a bit of the moon or stars on my skin during the nights if we are far enough away from blast radius radiation.”

“Or, I can just teleport all of us to the Sanctuary’s outer gates,” Michael offered dryly, coming out of the lounge area, being followed by a revived Mallory, Dinah Stevens, and Mary “The Fist”. Thankfully, Coco was nowhere to be seen. “That way, none of us will have to deal with radiation poisoning and we can all enjoy the amenities the Sanctuary has to offer sooner rather than later. I am positively craving a cup of hot coffee.”

“Oh my god, the Sanctuary has _coffee?_ ” Mallory whispered in shock - seeming to be stuck on that instead of the fact that Michael could teleport. Then again, she had been raised from the dead, so Azriel figured that that would definitely enlighten the woman to broader horizons on what the Antichrist could do. When Michael slowly nodded, she let out a relieved sigh. “I haven’t had a cup of coffee in so long.”

“Me neither,” Mary said. “It’ll be nice to have one for a change. I don’t even care if it’s instant non-organic coffee, just as long as there is some.”

Azriel looked over Mallory, noting that the young powerful witch seemed to still be oblivious of her dormant powers - so that was a good thing. She looked a bit nervous, and scared, but also determined. “You can actually teleport with other people that far?” Dinah asked, honestly curious.

“When one is the Antichrist, one is not without certain abnormal gifts,” Michael responded with a smug smile. Azriel rolled his eyes in mock annoyance before he came to stand near the Antichrist.

“Where do you want us?” Ms. Mead asked.

“Right where you are is fine. Just reach over and take hold of the hand belonging to the person next to you,” Michael explained.

“So, if you can teleport all that way, then why use the carriages?” Azriel couldn’t help asking, reaching down to take hold of both Ms. Mead and Michael’s hands. 

“Big entrances are always good to give in situations like this - and I wanted to keep a low profile when it came to being the Antichrist. Plus, I felt it was a bit amusing taking a note from Bram Stoker’s book,” Michael admitted with a snicker. Dracula had been one of Michael’s favorite gothic horror novels to read and study. 

Nodding slowly in understanding, taking the knowledge he had previously gleaned from Ms. Mead and Mary to piece together what book Michael was talking about. Glad he had packed away all of his shit - including his new pet already, Azriel waited with bated breath. He noted that Mallory and Mary seemed puzzled and a bit shellshocked, but were still following directions at least. Once everyone was firmly gripping each other’s hands, Michael teleported them out of the Outpost in a flash of crimson light.


End file.
